


Dry My Dreaming

by LitGal



Category: Aberrant Magic, NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 57,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9493139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LitGal/pseuds/LitGal
Summary: Life is normal for Tony—Gibbs is a bastard, Bishop is annoyingly enthusiastic, Senior is playing the part of a good father, and Tim is Tim. Their newest case even seems normal—a marine shot in the head three times.  Only it turns out the victim is a shaman, and the case gets tangled in the Talent community.  Tony has avoided magic since he turned twelve and his shaman father kicked him out of the house, not that Senior wants anyone to know he’s a shaman.  No, that would damage his reputation. As the case gets more complicated, Tony’s masks and his history start to unravel.Gibbs has always cared about Tony, but his patience is at an end.  No matter what Gibbs says or does, Tony will not pull his head out of his ass and take care of himself. Gibbs feels helpless—like he’s on the front lines with a fellow Marine self-destructing in slow motion, and there’s nothing he can do.  The fact that it’s Tony falling apart just makes it all worse. All he can do is push on and hope that Tony is strong enough to survive.  Gibbs can’t do anything else because there’s no way to protect Tony, at least that’s what he assumes until a new shaman pushes into his case and changes everything—including how Gibbs sees Tony.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> NCIS / Aberrant Magic  
> Tony angst  
> Eventually Tony/Gibbs  
> Before Bishop's breakup  
> The new team does not exist

Tony poked his computer, although he really didn’t have any illusions about coming up with a lead. Lance Corporal Richards had been into some shady stuff, but it wasn’t the sort Tony could investigate. Give him a strip club or a BDSM club or a country club or even a gay club, and Tony could slide right into the role. He could wear a thousand masks, some he’d worn for years.

But Richards had himself some mojo. He was a shaman or a magic user, and that was one community Tony couldn’t charm his way into. They were an insular group and had about as much patience with law enforcement as the average gang member. Not that he was being fair with that comparison. Tony got that. For the most part they were law-abiding people. People who had magic. And who didn’t like feds or cops or anyone in authority.

Tony hated this case.

Ellie came in with an extra coffee and put it on the edge of his desk. “Anything?”

“Unless I can wave a magic wand…” Tony twirled his finger in the air. The worst part was that it felt like Gibbs expected him to do exactly that. The man’s normal level of bastard had risen to epic new heights since Ziva had left. Tony would assume it was age and general bad temperament, but Gibbs killed himself trying to be nice to Bishop.

Bishop settled on the edge of her desk. “I’m pretty sure that people with Talent don’t appreciate magic wand jokes.”

Tony knew that—that’s why he made them. After all, he had a reputation as an equal opportunity insulter to uphold.

“Where’s Gibbs?” Ellie asked.

“Off fighting some jurisdiction battle in the toothpick’s office,” Tony said. The FBI wanted in on this dog of a case. Normally, Tony would have given them all the evidence with a bow on the top, but… Gibbs and Marines. Tony wasn’t surprised that he felt a need to fight over it.

“Tim?”

“Down with Abby. She has friends in the crystal magic end of the gene pool. She’s calling and seeing if any of them can get us introductions.”

“Then what’s Tim doing?” Ellie asked.

Sometimes she was so painfully clueless when it came to investigating. Tony wished that just once Gibbs would hire someone who actually had experience in investigations. Every other team got criminal justice majors and former cops or even military people out of JAG investigations. Gibbs insisted he wanted people who would think outside the box, and that inevitably led to some huge learning curves. Luckily Ellie was sharp. She’d catch on, and until she did, Tony would just need to make sure she didn’t damage their cases.

“Abby’s not a field agent, and if these contacts end up bringing us evidence, we need to make sure Tim can testify about how we communicated with them. We don’t want to ever put Abby in a position where she has to testify about anything other than her forensics. Always shield the technical people from the lawyers.” That should be a rule, but the closest Gibbs came was rule 13, never involve lawyers and the dreaded rule 44. Tony would have altered that one. Some women, like Ziva, didn’t need hiding.

He wondered where she was now.

“Ah,” Ellie said. “That makes sense. Thanks.”

Tony nodded and tried to focus on his computer again. Richards had sixteen dollars in the bank and a bad ass sound system in his apartment. Tony’s gut said that he was living outside his means, so Tony needed to figure out who he might owe money. Digging through computer records was more Tim’s thing, so Tony started working on the base records, trying to figure out which Marines were most likely to be on duty at the same time. Borrowing from your buddies was a favorite of moochers.

“So, do you think his Talent had anything to do with his death?” Ellie pulled her legs up under her so she was sitting cross-legged on the desk.

“Could be,” Tony said, although he wasn’t quick to jump to that conclusion. After all, not everything centered around magic.

“You don’t think so. Why?” Ellie leaned forward. She was so damn eager that sometimes it made Tony feel old. It’d been a long time since he’d been that unjaded. Tim had been, and back then Tony had more patience for the childlike wonder. These days he had to rein in his temper to avoid lashing out at Bishop. It wasn’t her fault that he felt like old, brittle paper. 

Channeling a younger and more patient version of himself, Tony constructed a new mask. After shrugging he leaned back in his chair. “Just because he’s a shaman doesn’t mean he does much with his Talent.”

“But he has Talent.”

“Sure,” Tony agreed. “But that doesn’t mean he even told people he had it. The Marines aren’t big fans of magic, and he might have gone to the Djedi center for any number of reasons. That’s why I want to talk to the other guys in his unit. I’m not going to assume his magic is the reason someone put three bullets in his head.”

“But if it is related to his Talent, we’re going to have a tough time investigating.”

Tony grimaced. That was too true. He could talk to senior, see if senior could introduce him to someone in the local Djedi center, but senior hated having anyone know about his status as a shaman, not unless it helped him impress someone. Tony didn’t want to start announcing his father’s status to everyone in the office, not when Senior had been randomly showing up. As much as Senior played the doting parent these days, Tony knew full well that the older man had the ability to inflict a heavy emotional toll if Tony stepped on his toes.

Not that Senior returned the favor. He was too happy to tell embarrassing stories from Tony’s youth.

“I just hope Gibbs gets the Djedi center to cooperate. I know their records are confidential, but Richards deserves justice.”

“Richards was killed with bullets, not lightning or from a building falling on his head. I still say a mundane killed him.”

“You have evidence to back up that assumption?” Gibbs asked as he came down the stairs. 

“No, boss.”

“Then keep it to yourself.”

“What did Vance say?” Ellie asked. There was a day that Tony would have dared that question, but that day was long gone. Some days Tony was so tired that he figured he was close enough to quitting that he didn’t dare bring the wrath of Gibbs down on his head.

“We have twenty four hours to solve this before he brings in the FBI’s Talent team. I want this solved before then.” Gibbs’ words were clipped and angry, but that was no surprise. If Vance threatened to give Gibbs’ case to someone else, he probably got an earful. It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

“DiNozzo, do you know anyone who could get us an introduction to the Djedi center?”

Tony paused a second too long, and Gibbs’ sharp gaze snapped up, pinning Tony in place. “DiNozzo,” he said, his voice a low growl. Tony used to find that sexy.

“No one I can call,” Tony said. He really didn’t need Senior in the middle of this mess. “Tim is trying to talk his way in through a friend of Abby’s.” Tony braced himself to get shot down. “I’d like to go talk to some of Richards’ team members. He seems a little loose with the money.”

Gibbs stared at Tony for a long time, and Tony imagined thought bubbles above Gibbs’ head. Gibbs probably assumed that Tony’s contact at the Djedi center was an ex-girlfriend Tony had treated badly. The man did tend to assume the worst. But after a second, Gibbs nodded and sank down into his chair. “Take Bishop,” he ordered.

“Got it,” Tony agreed. “Come on, Bishop.”

Tony sometimes wondered what she thought of them. She was a watcher, but so far Tony hadn’t heard any whispers about her talking to anyone in the office. She probably went home and told her husband all about the dysfunctional relationships in the MCRT. Tony couldn’t care. He grabbed his weapon and bag and headed for the elevator, Ellie at his six.

She didn’t speak until the elevator doors closed. “Why can’t we just head over to the Djedi center?”

“Because it’s the Talent equivalent of a church and a community center and a hospital all wrapped up in one. The second we show our badges, we’re going to get invited to leave.” Tony had only been to one Djedi center, and that had been in Baltimore. He’d found that the people were far nicer than the other detectives had told him to expect, but still, they wouldn’t give him any information.

“Is it really a church?” 

That wasn’t any easy answer, and Tony wasn’t in the community, so he didn’t know for sure. Senior had been bitterly disappointed when Tony never showed any sign of Talent. He’d accused Tony of being weak, just like his alcoholic mother. Senior might be kinder and gentler now, but Tony still remembered the man who had disowned Tony at twelve and the asshole who had abandoned Tony in a strange hotel, flying home without a second thought for his minor son.

Anyone else would have had Child Services crawling up their ass, but Senior had charmed them all. It was the only shamanic skill senior had ever developed, and he hated Tony for being immune to it.

Tony shrugged.

“I know they have tax exempt status, but one of the new directors is actually an FBI agent. There’s a lot of chatter that the center might be more open to law enforcement requests now.”

Tony gave a non-committal hum and let her chatter on. It was how she made all the information in her head fit together, so Tony didn’t really mind her chatter—he just wished she was less enthusiastic. Hopefully Tony could bring back a lead on Richards’ murder. Then he could get Gibbs off his back and hopefully get home in time to go to bed early. Tony knew his increasing need for sleep was a bad sign, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. It took all his focus to get the job done. There was nothing left for himself.

But that was okay, as long as Tony had enough to get Richards his justice.


	2. Chapter 2

Jethro reined in his temper. “Find me something,” he snapped at Tim. A few years ago, that would have sent Tim scrambling, but he had grown a lot. He gave Jethro a look just long enough to make his point before he retreated to his computer. He didn’t like Gibbs’ attitude, but then Gibbs didn’t like himself much lately. He was surprised he hadn’t sent Bishop running off, and Vance had made it clear that if Jethro scared off one more probationary agent, Vance would ask HR to do an internal audit of the team.

Jethro suspected the team would not survive. Tony was clearly struggling with depression and he refused to let anyone help him. Jethro had even invited him over for cowboy steaks, but Tony made excuses. And the more excuses Tony made, the more angry Jethro got.

Damn it. Tony had been the best young cop Jethro had ever seen. He had the flexibility and the moral fortitude to get the job done, but the Tony who showed up for work these days was a shell of the man he used to be.

Maybe Jethro should let Vance do the damn audit. Anyone with eyes would pull Tony out of the field, and maybe he needed that. The problem was that Jethro feared Tony would go home and lose himself. Maybe he wouldn’t end up at the bottom of a bottle or dead, but the risk was still there. Jethro had seen good men lose themselves. They held it together on the battlefield, but the second a psyche eval got them pulled from active duty, it was like part of them died. The helpless rage of watching a brother Marine fade away to nothing tore at Jethro every time, and he wasn’t about to let Tony go down that path. Tony needed this job. He was a damn good agent, and Jethro just had to figure out how to give him a swift kick and restart that fire for life.

Unfortunately, everything he did seemed to have the opposite effect. Jethro reviewed Richards’ service records while Tim typed away.

“Tony was right. Richards owes a lot of money,” Tim said. 

Jethro didn’t have anything to add, so he kept reviewing his own work. Tim sighed. Tim and Tony might snipe at each other, but when Jethro was alone with Tim, Tim was getting more and more adamant about throwing in these pro-Tony comments, as if Jethro needed to hear them. If Tony weren’t good, Jethro wouldn’t have stolen him. Having a junior agent trying—badly—to give Jethro an attitude adjustment did not improve Jethro’s mood.

Eventually Tim stood. “I’m going for coffee,” he said. Jethro gave a single nod and waited until Tim was gone before he headed down to the basement.

Abby’s music made his head pound before he even reached her lab. When Jethro entered, he went straight to the radio and turned it down. Abby whirled around, her pigtails flying.

“Gibbs!” she sang happily. No matter how bad his day, Abby’s genuine joy at seeing him always soothed his nerves. The rest of his team might be a fucking nightmare, but Abby would always be Abby. 

“Hey Abs. How’d it go with your friend?”

Abby’s face fell. “Totally not good. She’s a crystal user, so she doesn’t really hang with shamans, and she’s sort of not okay with Djedi center politics. She’s going to talk to another crystal user who does the whole community thing. Hopefully I can get you in with someone.” Abby’s face twisted with unhappy failure, and Jethro just wanted to fix her.

Jethro wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned into him. “I totally don’t deserve the comfort because I failed you.”

“You did your best,” Jethro said. Comforting her was so easy because she never asked for any. Jethro’s gut called him a traitor because Tony had that same self-hatred and Jethro had never found it easy to open himself to the younger agent.

“My best didn’t work. But I’m still on it,” she promised. She stepped backward ending the hug. “Do you have new evidence?”

“Nope,” Jethro said. “The team is still digging.”

“I don’t have anything beyond the ballistics report I already sent you.”

Jethro nodded. He knew that. 

Abby narrowed her eyes. “So what do you want?”

Jethro hated to drag anyone else into this, but his methods were failing badly. “Is something bothering DiNozzo?”

Abby sat on her stool. “Bothering like more than usual? I don’t think so. I wish it were that easy.” She wrinkled her nose. “You see it too, huh?”

“Hard to miss,” Jethro said.

“His aura is all hinky,” Abby agreed. Jethro didn’t even know what that meant. “But you aren’t helping with the whole cracking the whip routine.”

“Not much else I can do for him,” Jethro said. Tony needed to keep focused on work or he’d fall apart.

Abby pressed her lips together, and Jethro changed the subject before she could subject him to another lecture on the fragile nature of Tony. DiNozzo was a tough man, and Abby’s attitude was going to push him closer to a dangerous edge. If Tony started thinking of himself as weak or helpless or damaged, he was going to pull himself from the field, and Jethro did not want to imagine what would happen to him. Jethro had lost too many good people, but he couldn’t face losing Tony. None of Jethro’s marriages, none of his brother Marines, none of his bosses, no one else had ever been in his life for ten years. Jethro would move heaven and earth before he’d let depression steal Tony, and that meant Tony had to buck up and stay on the job so he had something to live for.

“Give me the short version of the shamanic crap,” Jethro said. He’d tried looking it up online, but he couldn’t figure out who was telling the truth and who was wildly exaggerating to make some political point. Coming from a small town, Jethro had never known anyone with Talent, or at least he’d never known anyone who admitted it. Rural people still held deep prejudices against magic, so Jethro understood why they hid their power. Hell, Jethro had done the same with his bisexuality. He didn’t need anyone in the Marines doubting him, so he’d never shown even a passing interest in another man. Of course, back then he’d had Shannon so it hadn’t been hard to simply ignore his attraction to either gender.

“Okay,” Abby said slowly, like she was trying to gather her thoughts, and Jethro braced himself for a lecture.

“Just the highlights.”

“They have magic,” Abby said with a bright smile. Jethro stared at her. 

“More of the midtones?” Abby teased, but then she kept going. “So you have one big split. On one side you have shamans and adepts who do the whole spirit walking and have magic from just being them. On the other side you have magic users who can manipulate the magic that gets left around. My friend is one of those. She is totally into crystals, but she doesn’t exactly have magic as much as she has an ability to use magic.”

“And Richards?”

“Lots of people totally are not into talking about their skills.”

“But…” Jethro tried to hurry her along.

“But it sounds like he might be a shaman. At least, my friend said that if he doesn’t have any magical stuff around his apartment, he’s either a shaman or a really crappy magic user who doesn’t know how to use much magic.”

Either was possible. Jethro’s gut was quiet, but if Tony was chasing the financial angle, Jethro was willing to bet that’s where they would find their perp. Now Jethro just needed to keep this FBI team away from his case. Another supervisory agent could make life difficult, especially when DiNozzo was so obviously operating at less than his best. The wrong word in Vance’s ear, and Jethro was going to have more trouble than he could keep away from his team.

Worse, this Boucher had a reputation for being the sort of rule-obsessed ass that made Jethro hate the FBI. The agency had a higher profile than NCIS, and because of that, they were paranoid about not getting caught with their pants down.

Jethro didn’t have any illusions about how long he’d last over there. Tony might have adapted well if Jethro hadn’t dragged him to NCIS first. 

He wouldn’t now. The FBI would kick DiNozzo’s ass to the curb so fast that the company shrink wouldn’t have time to get his claws in Tony. Jethro just wished he understood why Tony was veering wildly between inappropriate joking and a general lethargy that made Jethro worry about him in the field. Jethro had never handled it well when people didn’t live up to their potential, and if Tony didn’t figure this out and Jethro couldn’t get him back on track, their team wasn’t going to survive.

After giving Abby a kiss on the cheek, Jethro gave her a quick thanks and headed back up to his desk. They had one day before the FBI team stuck their nose into this case. If Jethro didn’t have a reputation, he’d give the FBI Talent team the case. It would keep them away from his people, but given Jethro’s reputation, that would make people ask too many questions.

With a lack of clear objectives and no way to get intelligence on what was eating DiNozzo, Jethro had to fall back on his most basic training. He would dig in and protect their position until something changed. Maybe then he could figure out how to get his people back on track.

Either that or he’d just kill DiNozzo. The stress of the team dynamic was aggravating Jethro to the point where homicide was starting to sound like a reasonable solution.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony dragged himself to work. He’d stayed late to finish SFA paperwork, and he now regretted it because there was no way Gibbs would cut him any slack, not with an active case running.

Well, Tony would just have to suck it up. The elevator doors opened, and he plastered on a smile. “Hello campers, are we ready for another day of hunting down bad guys and bringing justice to the world?” A handful of agents from across the room waved or called, and Tony used that approval to glue himself together just a little more.

“Hey, Tony. Your father called,” Ellie said as Tony came into the team area. And there went most of Tony’s resolve to get through the day. 

“Oh?” he said noncommittally. It killed him that Abby was all pro-Senior and so far it seemed like Ellie was starting to fall for the old man, too. The worst part of Tony’s childhood was having friends who were always telling him how cool his father was. And now Tony was caught in that same trap again. Worse, when Tony tried explaining why he had problems with his dad, the others made him feel worse.

Tony doubted that was their intent, but it worked out that way. Tim loved to go on about how he struggled to meet his father’s expectations, but funny enough, Tim had never been abandoned in another state or disowned at twelve. Tony thought those two stories alone should have been enough to make his coworkers look at Senior with distrust.

But no.

Senior had that special brand of charm going, and Tony was almost sure he was doing his shamanism thing again. Maybe he’d found a new wife to give him a little magical boost. Senior had never wanted to train long enough to really develop his skills. First, he refused to apprentice under someone lower than him socially and second he hadn’t wanted his Talent to be public. It meant that he typically worked best when he had someone with more power than him somewhere in the picture. Senior’s fourth wife had been perfect. Beautiful, stupid, magically Talented and insecure. Tony had really thought that marriage would last.

And then her family cut her off from the finances.

The worst part was when Senior tried defending himself. He hadn’t loved her less, he explained with such earnestness, but the lack of money meant he had to work so hard that the marriage had just fallen apart. Senior gave similar answers when Tony came right out and accused him of being a con man.

Senior would never hear anything of the sort. A con man meant to hurt people, and Senior started every project believing that everyone would live happily ever after if they just invested. Senior could tell himself that all he wanted, but the people left behind still lost their life’s savings. Some days Tony wanted to cut the man out of his life, but Senior was his father.

Worse, Senior often didn’t mean any harm. He caused it in spades, but he was like a giant, floppy dog. It didn’t mean to pee on the floor and knock over a priceless vase, and then it would look at you with big eyes and ask how you could be so mean as to yell at it.

Tony had never been good at staying mad.

“Tony?” Ellie called, concern coloring her tone.

“Yeah. Okay.” Tony forced himself to move again. He headed for his desk and starting checking his messages.

“Your father sounded really concerned.”

Tony nodded. “I’ll call him after we close the Richards case. Do we have anything new?” Tony started his computer. Abby’s electronic reports would reach them before the official printed copies.

“Not on the case, but I have some juicy background on the FBI team that supposed to be coming in if we can’t solve this.”

Tony sighed. “Bishop, I get that you like to have all the information, but you need to be more discreet about other teams.”

“What?” She frowned at him.

“If you go digging for dirt, it makes cooperating more difficult.”

She looked offended. “I would never say anything to them.”

“And if someone checked out my background and found out I was accused of killing women after biting them, what would happen if the case we were working together turned out to include a biter?”

Ellie wrinkled her nose. “Awkward.”

“Exactly. And I would know in an instant that they had checked up my record, just like these guys will know. You do not have a good poker face. Sometimes it’s better not to know.”

“Even if it’s juicy?”

“Especially if it’s juicy,” Tony said firmly. Sure, he wanted to know, but he didn’t have the energy to keep up a façade, and he knew it. That meant that the best way to avoid trouble was to avoid having anything to hide. “In general, are they good agents?”

“Most people seem to think so.”

“Then leave it at that,” Tony ordered her. She didn’t look completely convinced, but at least she would follow orders. 

Tony wondered how Ziva would have handled this FBI team. Like Ellie, she would have dug up some information on them. She would have shared with Tony, and then Tony would have spent all his time trying to defuse little barbs Ziva would have set into one of the fibbies. She did have a beautifully sadistic streak to her sometimes. Other times, she struggled with all the pain of the job. Tony got the feeling that she preferred assassinations where she didn’t have to stick around and see the aftermath of the violence. But she was gone now, so it didn’t matter.

In some ways that was better. They were so hot and cold that Tony could rarely keep up with where they stood with their relationship. Twice they had gotten so tangled in their own feelings that they’d ended up in bed together, and twice Ziva had held a weapon on Tony and came dangerously close to killing him. That was the sort of rollercoaster Tony didn’t need.

Ellie spoke again. “It’s nice that you’re trying to mend fences with your father. Tim was telling me that he wasn’t exactly father of the year when you were growing up.”

A snort slipped out before Tony could control the instinct. 

“Jake’s father had so many problems, but when he died, Jake was really sorry he hadn’t found a way to talk to him.”

“Good for Jake,” Tony muttered.

“What?” Ellie asked a little louder.

Tony really didn’t want to deal with this. “Do you have background on those two Marines?” During the interviews, two of Richards’ teammates had set off huge alarms with Tony. If they weren’t involved in Richards’ murder, they were doing something else they didn’t want NCIS to know about. That gave Tony a lot of incentive to poke around their lives.

“I was going to start with Burnett.”

Tony let out a breath as she focused back on the work. “I’ll take Shaffer.” Ellie was good at digging out hidden information through the computers, so Tony trusted her to get the truth on Burnett. But computers weren’t his thing. He was more about getting people to talk. “I’m going to go get coffee and it might take me a little longer than normal.”

Ellie looked up from her computer. “Oh?”

“I feel a need for some gourmet doughnuts.”

“You’re going to that fancy place right across from the Marine Barracks, aren’t you.”

“Maybe,” Tony said with a wink. He also planned to check out the pub farther down the block and the gay bar to the south. Marines had to go somewhere, and Tony figured Richards, Burnett, and Shaffer were regulars at one of the local spots. He didn’t know which, but that’s what investigation was for.

Ellie started to stand. “I’ll go with you.”

The last thing Tony wanted was company. As long as he had one of the team with him, he had to put up the whole Tony-front, and right now he didn’t have the energy for it. If he was alone, he wouldn’t have to pretend to be okay. “No, you will do your digging. If you finish Burnett’s background, dig into Shaffer. That’s more likely to get us a good lead. What I’m doing is a wild goose chase.”

“Then why go?” Ellie have him a hard look.

Tony gave her a wide, goofy grin. “Because when the hunt pays off, wild goose tastes delicious.” She didn’t have the rank to argue with him, so Tony booked it out of the office before Gibbs showed up and ordered him to take someone or Tim showed up to guilt him into the same. Tim used to be easier to get to back off, but lately he’d been a real pest. Tony didn’t need their good intentions. He needed time by himself. And he needed to find Richards killer. That was his first priority.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony was riding the ragged edge of a serious crash when the whole floor went silent. That was ominous. When he looked up, two men were getting off the elevator and asking for directions, both wearing guest passes.

The older one had a shaved head and off the rack suit. It was a nice one, but it lacked tailored details and his side holster made a horrible bulge. The younger one was in his late thirties, maybe. He wore a tailored suit, a mid-price American if Tony was judging right. He wasn’t wealthy, but he did like to look good. Feds. 

Tony could smell them from a mile away. Hopefully these two would be more interested in Carl Shaffer than in framing Tony for another murder. Since Gibbs was still talking to legal, Tony stood and waited for the feds to make their way to the MCRT.

Tim stood and moved to Tony’s side. “Is that them?” he asked in a loud whisper.

“Do you know any other fibbies coming today, McLoud?”

Tim sighed even louder. Ellie stood and sat on her desk without coming around to the center aisle, and about that same time, Agent Spiller pointed them toward the MCRT. The younger one took lead while the senior agent followed.

“Hi. I’m Agent Oberton from the Talent unit. I was looking for Special Agent Gibbs.”

“He’s busy,” Tony said, “I’m Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, and these are Agents McGee and Bishop. I hate to break it to you, but you’re a little late to solve the case.” Tony’s smile invited them to turn around and get the hell out, and he trusted these two were smart enough to get the message.

The older agent narrowed his eyes, so the message got through loud and clear.

Oberton spoke up, which probably meant the partners were playing good-fed, bad-fed. “This is Supervisory Agent Boucher, and I understand the suspect you’re questioning has Talent.”

“Yep.” Tony figured neither Marine knew what the hell they were doing with magic, but they had it. And Richards had blackmailed Carl Shaffer, not understanding the depths the other man would go to in order to hide his status. The Marines wouldn’t have cared if he had Talent, but they sure as hell didn’t appreciate a Marine who murdered another. “He already confessed.”

Boucher took a step forward. Okay, so if the hardass wanted to take a swing, Tony could handle it. He’d worked for Gibbs for a decade, so he had immunity to the sort of dark glares this one was leveling at him. “Did he?”

“Yep. We caught the bad guy, so that’s when we have high fives and go out for celebratory drinks.” Tony figured he was laying it on a little thick, but he was tired and he didn’t want to put up with the bullshit.

“You didn’t do anything to encourage that confession, did you?” Boucher asked.

Oberton gave his partner a strange look, and Tony looked over at Tim. Okay, maybe these guys were friends with Agent Slacks, but if they wanted to question his professionalism, that seemed like a strange place to start.

“Actually, yes. I did encourage him to confess since he was guilty,” Tony said slowly, making it clear that he thought Boucher was a little slow in the head. Oberton flinched at the insult, but Boucher just glared more.

Tim said, “Maybe I should get Gibbs.” He hesitated a few seconds, before he turned and fled. Ellie moved to take his place, standing shoulder to shoulder with Tony.

Tony didn’t need anyone to save him. “This was about money more than magic,” he told the FBI agents. “Neither the victim or the suspect was a working shaman. They had Talent, but neither really used it, and it was dumb luck they ended up in the same unit.” That coincidence made Tony wonder how many people had Talent and didn’t know it. His own father had become a shaman by accident after a tonsillectomy had gone wrong when he’d been in his early teens. He’d nearly died on the operating table, and that had allowed him to slip onto the spirit plane. More than once Senior had told that story to try to impress on Tony that a man made use of any opportunity life presented him. 

Boucher took another step forward, and Tony had to admit he felt a little intimidated. The fed was huge. However, that didn’t mean Tony intended to back down. Ellie gave Tony a concerned look, but held her ground at his side. “How much encouragement did you give him?”

Tony looked at Oberton since he seemed to be the sane fibbie. “Does your partner have a problem with me doing my job?”

Boucher responded. “Agent DiNozzo, why aren’t you registered as a shaman with the prosecutor or JAG?”

Tony’s mouth fell open. He prided himself on being able to handle any situation, but this was so out of the blue that he couldn’t come up with an answer. Ellie actually spoke first.

“Tony’s not a shaman. You must be mistaken.”

“I’m not,” Boucher said firmly.

Tony’s brain slowly came back online, and he could only figure out one reason why he would hit a shaman’s radar, and it would mean that Senior was up to his old tricks. “Agent Boucher, you are out of line,” Tony said as firmly as he could, but the anger was boiling inside, and he was having trouble staying calm. As a child, Senior would use Talent-based charm on Tony to keep him from telling people at school about the drinking or the neglect, and if Tony had shamanic cooties on him, there was only one good reason. The bastard was using his magic against Tony again. 

Senior wanted back in Tony’s good graces and instead of being a decent human being and proving that he cared about Tony, he was taking a shortcut and trying to make Tony like him. 

“If you’re using shamanic powers against suspects, I won’t let that slide,” Boucher warned darkly.

Tony really didn’t want to get into this here, but the situation was getting out of hand. “Any shamanic vibes you’re getting are from my father—not me.”

“Your father?” Ellie’s voice rose a good octave. 

He gave her a weary look. “Yes, and he doesn’t want people to know. As a civilian, he has no obligation to tell anyone his Talent status.” Tony turned and gave Boucher a cold glare.

Instead of looking chagrined, Boucher looked confused. “Your father?”

“Yes, my father. I’ve spent several nights with him this week.” Tony lied to try and give a plausible excuse for having shamanic fingerprints all over him. But there was no way he was going to tell the fibbies that he was trying to keep his father at arm’s length by limiting their interaction to one dinner per week, and any excess magic clinging to Tony came from the fact that his father was a narcissist who thought he had a right to manipulate the world any way he wanted it.

When Tony spotted Gibbs striding across the room, he was relieved. Gibbs was about to make a huge interagency stink, and Tony would be more than happy to take advantage of that distraction to get the hell out of Dodge. He was going to track down his father and rip him a new one.

Maybe.

Faced with Senior’s charm and lack of genuine malice, Tony did have a history of caving. But this time, Senior’s stunt had endangered Tony’s career. A member of law enforcement who didn’t reveal his Talent status would have all his work reviewed to determine if he’d used magic to induce confessions. That would lead to sanctions and termination and criminals being released from prison. Senior couldn’t do anything that might make Tony show up on shamanic radar.

“Agent Boucher,” Gibbs said, completely ignoring the junior agent. “The case is closed, and I appreciate you coming, but you aren’t needed.”

“Aren’t wanted, perhaps,” Boucher said. If Tony had been giving someone advice on how to piss Gibbs off, that would have been near the top of the list of things to say. McGee was following one step behind Gibbs, and he froze. Gibbs leaned in, his lips pressed together as he radiated fury and danger. Boucher didn’t even flinch.

Surprisingly, Agent Oberton got in the middle. “We just have a few questions about how you handle Talent cases, Agent Gibbs.”

“I don’t care about your questions.” Gibbs gave Oberton a cold stare.

“Then we’ll take our concerns to Director Vance,” Boucher said.

Tony could just imagine how that would go. Vance didn’t like him to begin with, and if there was any reason to believe that Tony had failed to register a Talent as a law enforcement agent, the lawyers and Vance would race for shovels to bury Tony. It would be a bloodbath, and even after everything got sorted, Tony doubted he would have much of a career left. Reputation was everything. 

“Knock yourself out,” Gibbs said.

“Gibbs, no. I can explain this,” Tony said quickly.

“They think he’s a shaman,” Tim said in a voice caught between horror and disbelief. 

Immediately Gibbs turned on Tony. Tony felt a flash of anger that sputtered and died before it could really take root. He didn’t know why he expected anything else from Gibbs. Of course the man would put the blame for this on Tony.

“It’s his dad that’s a shaman,” Ellie said softly.

Gibbs looked over at her, and now the anger vanished under confusion. This was not a conversation Tony wanted to have in the open. “Could we find a conference room?” Tony asked. He looked at Gibbs, silently begging the man to not air all Tony’s dirty laundry in public. For a second, Gibbs appeared implacable, and panic climbed up Tony’s throat. Then something shifted, and Gibbs turned.

“This way,” he said as he strode away. McGee fell back rather than get run over, and Tony froze, not sure how the FBI guys would react to Gibbs’ style. Boucher looked particularly unamused, but Oberton followed Gibbs, and after a pause, Boucher followed Oberton. Tony came up the rear, signaling Tim to stay behind and hoping he would keep Ellie out of this. The fewer people privy to this meeting the better, because Tony really did not want to admit that his father was so unethical as to try and magic his son into loving him.

And he didn’t want to admit that despite whatever magic Senior had used, Tony didn’t want to give that love.


	5. Chapter 5

Jethro’s gut was tied in knots by the time he found an empty conference room. If Tony had hidden his Talent status, Jethro would have backed him. Hell, Ziva had told him about her Talent and her fear of American prejudice surrounding Talent, and he’d protected her. He’d kept her away from any witnesses they would need to later put on the stand and never told a soul. Jethro would have done no less for Tony. But letting himself get caught by one of the top shamans in the area was just stupid. Was Tony’s head up his ass so far that he couldn’t come up with a good excuse to get out of the office?

The other alternative was that Agent Boucher was either wrong or pulling some sort of prank. Considering the man was not only an FBI agent but one of the three shamans who controlled the local Djedi center, Jethro doubted it was the first, and Boucher’s reputation made the second pretty damn unlikely.

And if any of this hit Vance’s desk, DiNozzo was going to be out on his ass. And once defense lawyers caught wind of it and their cases started getting reversed, Tony would eat his own gun. The whole fucked up mess made Jethro want to shoot someone, and Tony might be at the head of the line. Jethro stood aside and let the other three enter the conference room before he slammed the door.

“Okay, talk,” he ordered Tony. He braced himself for the shit and the fan to have a spectacular meeting.

“I’m not a shaman,” Tony said.

Boucher crossed his arms and Oberton grimaced. Jethro didn’t know much about the junior agent, but Boucher had a reputation as a straight shooter, so Jethro decided to put his cards on the table. At this point it couldn’t do much more damage.

“In ten years I’ve never seen him do anything that would have included Talent.”

“And would you recognize it?” Boucher demanded.

That was a direct hit. Jethro hadn’t been around much magic, and it wouldn’t take much digging to uncover that fact. When Jethro lied, he preferred to make sure he couldn’t get caught, so he pressed his lips together. Boucher raised his eyebrows and stared back. Jethro was quickly learning to hate this bastard. Like usual, DiNozzo jumped in to smooth issues over.

“My father is a shaman, and he has a questionable history of using his Talent to manipulate others.” DiNozzo cringed, no doubt wishing he didn’t have to share this detail. Jethro fought to keep a neutral expression on his face, but if he had a chance to tell Senior what he thought of that sort of manipulation, he wouldn’t pass it up.

The worst part was that Jethro had tried to smooth the way for that reconciliation. Jethro had lost so many years with his father that he had hoped Tony could avoid making the same mistakes. But it had never occurred to him that Senior’s bad behavior had continued to the present day.

Agent Boucher seemed interested in this topic. “Manipulate how?” His voice carried a dangerous edge that Jethro approved of, assuming Tony didn’t get caught in the middle.

Tony shrugged. “I’m not a shaman, so I don’t know. But he has always been charming—able to talk people into investing in his projects or forgiving him. If I have magic around me, it’s probably him, and this is a topic I would rather avoid discussing in public.”

“Has anyone filed a complaint with the Djedi center?” Oberton asked.

Tony gave another shrug. “I have no idea. Our relationship is usually strained to the point of not speaking.”

Jethro could confirm that. “He didn’t show up when DiNozzo contracted the plague.”

Oberton grimaced, and Jethro had to stomp down an urge to tell the man to shove his sympathy where the sun didn’t shine. Tony didn’t need some fed’s sympathy.

“Yeah, not a great relationship there,” Tony admitted. “Which is why I would not be surprised if he was trying to ‘encourage’ me to forgive him.” Tony used air quotes around the word ‘encourage.’ “So you can see why I might have some shamanic energy around me.”

“That wouldn’t explain what I’m sensing,” Boucher said.

Tony did have a temper, although he rarely let it show. However, it came out now as he snapped, “Well I don’t have another explanation. Maybe you didn’t have your Wheaties this morning and you’re just off your game.”

Boucher stiffened, and Jethro started calculating how many favors he would have to call in to try and minimize the fallout from this disaster. As soon as they were alone, Jethro was going to head smack DiNozzo into the middle of next week.

“That’s possible,” Oberton said. He looked at his partner, but Boucher didn’t seem to think so, and he was the senior partner. “If we were on the spirit plane, it’d be easy to tell, right?”

Jethro could see the trap, and Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you think I can get to the spirit plane, which would be possible only if I’m a shaman, but two problems. First, I’m not a shaman. Second, if I were a shaman, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for bullshit like that.”

“I don’t know. You’re lying to my face,” Boucher said, and Jethro couldn’t take it anymore.

He stepped right into Boucher’s personal space. “My agents don’t lie. My team. My rules. Back off.” Jethro had to look up at Boucher, but that also meant that Jethro was right at Boucher’s unprotected stomach. Boucher clenched his fists, clearly uncomfortable with the tight quarters, which is exactly what Jethro wanted. Jethro waited for him to back off a step, but after a second, Boucher seemed to lean in. Jethro mirrored his posture, and they stared each other down. Jethro had gone nose to nose with terrorists and mass murderers—he sure as hell wasn’t going to back down to a fed, not when Tony’s neck was on the line.

“Okay, this is not going the way I expected,” Oberton said softly.

“Funny. I actually did expect feds to accuse me of something. It’s like a pilgrimage for you guys over at the Hoover building,” Tony snapped back. “Are you playing some weird version of Bingo where framing Tony DiNozzo is the center square? Because that would explain a lot.” Tony had his best devil-may-care voice going, which usually meant he was feeling pretty damn insecure.

Boucher turned his stare on Tony, which Jethro did not approve of. Jethro growled, “DiNozzo.” Hopefully the self-destructive idiot would shut up.

Oberton stepped into the breach. “Actually, we can get anyone to the spirit plane, so you wouldn’t need to be a shaman. Agent Gibbs could even come, and if you say you’re not a shaman while you’re there, Agent Boucher will be able to see that you’re telling the truth, and then this is all cleared up.” Oberton’s voice trailed off, and he looked at Boucher. Clearly the supervisory agent has his junior partner well in line. Gibbs had very little respect for that sort of partnership. He preferred DiNozzo standing up to him. Not that he did often these days, and when Tony did take a stand, it was inevitably for the worst damn reason in the world—like when he’d gone haring off after Ziva. DiNozzo’s loyalty led him to do some pretty stupid shit lately.

Boucher took a step backward. “If you come to the spirit plane, we can clear this up quickly.”

Jethro was not ready to let this asshole off the hook that easily. If he was backing down, it was because he knew he was in the wrong, and he was. “I thought the spirit plane was dangerous—that people got lost and never came back to their bodies,” Jethro said.

“Happens to some people,” Boucher agreed with a cold stare in Jethro’s direction.

Oberton quickly jumped in with, “But not us. If you’re with us, we can easily navigate the spirit plane.” He had his good cop routine going to balance out Boucher’s bad cop. “Where’s your meditation room?”

“Don’t have one,” Jethro said.

“What?” Oberton appeared alarmed by that, and if NCIS had any shamans, there would probably be a good reason for that, not that Jethro understood the reason shamans needed a room to take a time out in.

“NCIS doesn’t have any Talent on staff, so it’s a waste of space,” Jethro explained.

“No shamans will work for you? Shocking given your interagency cooperation skills,” Boucher said dryly.

Jethro narrowed his eyes. “Don’t like it, file a complaint.”

“I might,” Boucher answered.

Oberton put his hand on Boucher’s arm. It was a familiar gesture, and Jethro wondered how close the partners were. “Let’s not burn any bridges,” Oberton suggested. “Agent DiNozzo, if you could lock the doors, we could get comfortable in the chairs, and that will work.”

“Assuming we’re doing this little spirit plane journey,” Jethro said. This sounded like a Talent version of a lie detector, and the only suspects who submitted to those were idiots. If they showed a person was telling the truth, an investigator could accuse the suspect of faking the test. If the person failed, even for unrelated reasons, and the investigator would never stop hounding them. It was a lose-lose situation.

“Boss, it’s fine,” Tony said, that same horrible timing showing up again.

Jethro glared at DiNozzo, silently ordering him to back off, but now Tony dug in his heels and stared right back. Jethro was going to head slap him into the next century.

Boucher went around Jethro to lock the door before he headed for the chairs. “Let’s get this over with. The best way out is to just tell the truth, DiNozzo.”

“Yeah, I keep trying, but you suck at listening,” Tony said, and again, Boucher’s whole body stiffened. The man did not like being disrespected, and he was biting back more than one nasty response. Well as far as Jethro was concerned, Boucher needed to keep his opinions to himself, especially when it came to Jethro’s senior field agent. DiNozzo was off limits.


	6. Chapter 6

Tony had no idea what bug had crawled up Gibbs’ ass and died, but he was too damn tired to fight Gibbs and Boucher at once, especially when he would just have to hunt down Senior and fight him later. Tony’s anger had dulled from a fire to nothing more than dull embers. It hurt so damn much to know his own father would manipulate him, but that was an old pain. Tony still bore the scars of that pain.

“How do we do this?” he asked Agent Oberton. The man was definitely the reasonable one in the partnership, although that might just be his professional persona. Tony certainly found he got more done when he was less of an asshole. He looked over at Gibbs.

Yep, he was still a bear with a sore paw. And Boucher didn’t look much happier, although he was settling himself into a chair.

“Boss?” Tony asked. He wasn’t sure what he wanted—either Gibbs to volunteer to go with him or to stay here and guard their bodies. However, after a second, Gibbs sank into the chair next to Tony, so Tony figured they were going to the spirit plane together.

“So, how—” Tony fell silent. In the blink of an eye he’d gone from the NCIS conference room to a version of the Providence Performing Art Center. The red and blue scrollwork along the curved ceilings, the gilding, the ornate chandelier set in the gold circle, the high arches and intricate carvings were all exact replicas from Tony’s memory. But the seats went farther back than Tony remembered. They stretched on for at least a half mile, and the sea of red seats was broken by irregular lines of gold, like someone had splashed rivers of gaudy paint across the fabric.

“What the hell?” Gibbs stared at the stage. When Tony turned all the way around, the wide performance area had been replaced by an archway that led to a rich forest. A dusting of snow gave everything a storybook quality, and red swoops of curtains blocked the view of the tree tops.

The first and last time Tony had been at the Providence Performing Art Center, his mother had brought him to a dance performance. Tony couldn’t even remember who had been on stage. He’d been too young to really appreciate the performance, but he remembered holding his mother’s hand tightly. He remembered all the bright coats and the wonder of having his mother bring him. 

Her evenings out were her escape from the family home, and she had always left Tony behind with a nanny up to that point, but the art center was the first time he became part of her inner circle. It was him and his mom against the world, and it had all started in this building, although back then, the forest had definitely not been there. The theater, movies, art—this was the secret world Tony shared with his mom.

As a child, Tony had simply wanted to avoid his father’s mood swings. When a deal went well, Senior would promise ponies and trips to Australia and pet kangaroos. When some business venture tanked, Tony hid from the screaming and drinking. Going out with his mother was a chance to enjoy the world without always having to watch for his father’s mood. He remembered asking his mother why his father didn’t seem to love him, and his mother had told him that all fathers had trouble talking to their children. Maybe that’s where Tony had gotten his fear of having children of his own.

“What do you see?” Boucher asked, but then Oberton put a hand on Boucher’s arm, and he nodded as though he had his answer. “Oh.”

Tony turned to Boucher. He didn’t want the fibbies here one second longer than required because this place felt sacred to him. “So, ask your damn question.”

Boucher raised his eyebrows.

After clearing his throat, Oberton asked, “Are you a shaman?”

“No,” Tony said firmly. If he was, he would have ripped the charm right out of his father.

Oberton turned to Boucher. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Gibbs practically growled the words. Tony wished he could believe that Gibbs was getting protective and territorial over Tony, but the more likely answer was that he resented the hell out of losing so much time to a wild goose chase. Maybe Tony could sic Gibbs on Senior. Gibbs’ famous gut and Marine stare against Senior’s charm and Talent. Tony would bet on Gibbs.

Boucher tilted his head. “Agent DiNozzo believes that.”

Tony threw up his hands. “Because it’s true.”

“But it’s not,” Boucher said. “Words have a reality here, and your words are truth to you, but untrue of reality.”

“You mean he doesn’t know he’s a shaman?” Oberton clarified.

Tony turned his back and started walking up the aisle of the theater. “Where’s the exit because I am not going to stand here while you accuse me of being stupid.”

“Whoa! Wait! Don’t wander too far or you might actually get lost,” Oberton called.

“I thought you said this was safe,” Gibbs snapped.

“Because I assumed he wouldn’t wander away,” Oberton defended himself. “Agent DiNozzo, I was a mundane up to a couple of months ago when I found out I had shamanic powers I didn’t know about. It’s impossibly rare, but it does happen.” Oberton exchanged a concerned look with his partner, and Tony headed back toward them. His gut might not be as well developed as Gibbs’, but he knew when someone was trying to hide information.

“What aren’t you saying?”

“Excuse me?” Boucher demanded. Having him speak instead of the less threatening Oberton was definitely an attempt to get Tony to back off. Tough shit. Tony didn’t do what anyone expected.

“You know something you aren’t saying.”

Boucher crossed his arms. “I know a lot of things I have no intention of telling you, Agent. Darren, find Agent DiNozzo’s guide.”

“On it,” Agent Oberton agreed.

Tony sighed. “Look, you clearly confused. Possibly well-intentioned, but definitely confused because I don’t have a guide. I don’t have Talent, I’m not a shaman or a magic user. You have gotten all your wires mixed up somewhere, and I’m just the poor guy standing center stage when you did.” Tony spread his arms out to gesture at the stage they were standing on.

“DiNozzo, shut up,” Gibbs said. That was unusually direct.

“Boss?”

“Words have a reality here.” Gibbs repeated Boucher’s early words, and the light bulb came on so fast that it hurt. Words. Boucher wanted words, and Tony was the huge schmuck who kept talking. Tony was giving Boucher some version of Tony’s reality, and as a shaman, he had all the power. Tony pressed his lips together and Gibbs gave a tight nod.

“Let’s go back,” Gibbs said. Tony regretted coming, not that it helped much after the fact. All Tony could do was keep his mouth shut and wait for Boucher to get them back to the real world.

“I found it,” Oberton said even though he hadn’t done anything except stare up at the sky. Tony had assumed Oberton had ignored his partner’s order to find Tony’s guide, but apparently not.

Boucher turned to him. “Where?”

“That way,” Obertson gestured toward the forest.

“Found what?” Gibbs asked with a growl.

“DiNozzo’s guide,” Boucher said.

“Oh for the love of—” Gibbs cut himself off, and Tony didn’t know what to say. Shamans ran this world, and he never should have come. Worse, Gibbs would never forgive him for dragging Gibbs down with him.

Boucher took a step closer to Gibbs. “Agent Gibbs, give us ten minutes, and then maybe you will understand why your agent reads as a shaman. I promise you, I’m not the only shaman to notice DiNozzo’s status. I do, however, find it disturbing that I’m the first to mention it to him.” With that, Agent Boucher turned and headed into the woods, following the footsteps Oberton had left in the snow.

“Boss?” Tony asked. He had no idea what to do at this point, and they were trapped on the spirit plane with mentally disturbed shamans.

Gibbs didn’t answer, but he did stride into the forest after Boucher. With a sigh, Tony followed. This was the strangest day he’d ever had, and coming from someone with his history of serial killers, plagues, and ghost ships, that was saying something.


	7. Chapter 7

Jethro’s gut churned as he followed Boucher’s back. Other shaman would have recognized Tony. Something told Jethro that the fed was telling the truth about that, but Jethro didn’t want to believe it. Maybe Ziva had a good reason.

When she’d started with the team, Jethro would expect her to hide that sort of information. She’d been insecure about her place, and more than once she’d pushed too damn hard, like with that damn dinner. Looking back, Jethro shouldn’t have gone along with that, but she’d felt so isolated. Several days she’d come to his house and sat on his steps to watch him sand the boat because she’d had nothing else to do. It seemed like such a small joke and a good way to make Ziva feel at home.

And when Jethro wasn’t being a coward, he could admit that he had to push Tony away because his feelings for Tony were not fatherly, and Jethro would not make that mistake again. Jenny had taught him the folly of having feelings for a teammate, and Jethro did not like to repeat the same mistakes. Pushing Tony away had been the best way to avoid future disaster.

But if she knew Tony was a shaman, why wouldn’t she address it with Tony or with Jethro later—after her place on the team was more secure? Jethro knew she had feelings for Tony. Her attraction was equal to the guilt she felt for letting her personal feelings affect her so much when her father expected her to be the perfect Mossad agent.

After Ziva left Mossad, Jethro had resigned himself to the two of them starting a relationship. He’d drunk more than ever and started to really hate Tony and his heterosexuality, but he’d resigned himself to seeing Tony make a commitment to Ziva. But even after renouncing her ties to Mossad, Ziva had still continued the same dysfunctional relationship, pulling at Tony’s loyalties one second and pushing him away hard the next day. Despite loving Ziva like a daughter, Jethro had started to hate her for the way she screwed with Tony’s head.

He’d been relieved when she left, only to have Tony go chasing after her. And now all those unhappy and uncomfortable made even less sense because if Agent Boucher was right, she’d known all along that Tony was a shaman, and she’d never told anyone… including Tony. What the hell had she been thinking? Some days Jethro could not figure out what passed for logic in other people’s minds.

Ahead Boucher stopped, and Jethro took a slight step to the side so that he would be between DiNozzo and Boucher, but the second he saw the animal beside a large boulder, he forget all about the two shamans. The grey wolf was large, at least his bone structure was, but he was starved down until skin stretched across bone. He had a huge wound on the back of his neck and some sort of disease or parasite had clearly set in. Jethro reached for his sidearm to put the wolf out of its misery, but apparently his gun hadn’t come to the spirit plane with him.

Then before Jethro could figure out what to do about the suffering animal, DiNozzo threw himself forward. Jethro grabbed for him, but missed, and for a second, fear ripped at Jethro’s guts as he waited for the badly injured and dying wolf to gut Tony. If it had the strength to lift its head, that was the only possible outcome.

Instead, Tony put his head on the wolf’s shoulder, and the wolf moved its muzzle just enough to lick Tony’s arm. With a sob, Tony wrapped his arms around the wolf, running his fingers through the patchy fur. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know,” Tony whispered. Someone else might take that as an apology to Boucher for lying about his Talent, but Jethro had the feeling Tony was apologizing to the wolf. That would be more like Tony—to feel bad for his inability to protect everyone.

“He’s in so much pain,” Oberton said softly. “All he can do is suffer.”

“That’s why DiNozzo didn’t have access to his Talent. Fuck.” Boucher growled the last word, his anger making the air feel heavy. Jethro couldn’t deny what his eyes were telling him, so he that meant he had to shift gears.

“Who did this?” Jethro looked at Boucher for answers.

Boucher stared back at him without saying anything.

“Is there any way to know?” Oberton asked.

Boucher looked over to where Tony had his arms wrapped around the dying wolf. “The scars look old, and the guides tend to follow the rules of the physical world. At least when they feel like it. But my guess would be that the wolf has been injured for years or even decades.”

Jethro gritted his teeth. He wanted to rage, but no one here had done the damage. Right now, Jethro knew that Tony would blame his father, but Jethro wasn’t as sure. His gut told him Ziva was involved somehow, but that wasn’t a conversation he would have in front of this FBI agents. Ziva was his mistake and his responsibility. And if she had done this much damage to Tony, he was going to find her and kick her ass so hard she’d feel it when she was eighty. What the hell had she been thinking?

“Can you help him?” Jethro asked. 

“I could,” Oberton said, but he looked at Boucher as if asking for permission. To hell with that.

“Then fix it!” Jethro snapped. Oberton didn’t do anything until Boucher nodded, and Jethro was starting to have homicidal feelings toward these two. But then Oberton looked up and a white bird swooped down out of the sky and landed on the wolf’s shoulder near Tony’s head.

The wolf whined, and Tony picked his head up. “Don’t hurt him.” Tony growled the words.

Oberton knelt down next to Tony. “He won’t. He’s going to give your guide enough energy to heal. He’s been hurt for too long to heal himself.” 

Tony looked at Oberton with suspicion. Good. Jethro disliked these two enough that he didn’t want his second to like them. Finally Tony said, “Okay.”

The bird started combing through the wolf’s hair, picking out the parasites and worms that infected the nasty wound.

Tony stroked the wolf’s head, and he had such a smitten expression that Jethro was jealous of a damn wolf that wasn’t even real. “How could I have forgotten him?” Tony asked in a pained voice.

“Enough,” Jethro said before anyone could answer. “We’ll discuss this back in the conference room.” Jethro stared at Boucher and dared him to contradict the order. There was no way that he or Tony would talk while the shamans had a magical version of a polygraph going. The damn PR department hadn’t managed to get Jethro to take a polygraph, and Boucher wouldn’t either. Boucher stared at him without moving. Bastard. They might have kept staring at each other, but Tony’s voice distracted Jethro.

“He’s healing.”

Jethro looked over and the wolf’s wounds were closed and he had more meat on him. However, he wasn’t fully healed. He struggled up onto wobbly legs, and Jethro’s gut screamed about having a predator so close to DiNozzo. With Tony sitting on the forest floor, the wolf was taller than him. It was a huge creature that must have been a good 180 pounds when healthy. It still wasn’t there yet. The bird had flown off when the wolf got to its feet, but now it settled on the wolf’s shoulders. The wolf should have treated the cattle egret like prey, but instead it ignored the bird as the wolf’s hair began to grow back. Mangy clumps fell out, replaced with healthy fur.

Before long, a solid gray wolf stood in the forest. He shoved his head forward, burying it in DiNozzo’s lap, but then it looked up and with the grace of its species, leapt away and vanished into the shadows.

“Wait!” Tony cried out. He bolted to his feet, but Jethro hadn’t forgotten what Oberton had said about getting lost, so he caught Tony by the arm before he could go running off into the woods. Tony jerked his arm. “Let go!”

“No,” Jethro said firmly.

“Damn it.” Tony shoved at Jethro’s chest, and this was the most aggressive Jethro had seen Tony in years.

“Your guide is still there,” Oberton said. “But wolves are private. He’ll want to get to know you alone, not with all of us standing around.”

“Then leave,” Tony said. His head was so twisted around that he clearly thought that was a good idea. 

“You don’t know how to navigate on the spirit plane. Shamans get lost and die here,” Boucher said. “We’re going back to the conference room.”

Jethro tightened his grip on Tony’s arm and was about to agree when the world vanished in a blink and they were back in the conference room.

Tony shot out of his chair. “You bastard. You had no right to drag me back here.” He closed in on Boucher. The fed stood, and Jethro scrambled to catch Tony before he could assault a federal agent. Tony was faster and he shoved at Boucher’s chest before Jethro could stop him.

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs snapped, and when he reached Tony a second later, he head slapped him. 

Tony whirled around, and for a second, he seemed confused. He stared at Jethro like he’d never seen him.

“Okay, let’s all calm down.” Oberton moved between Boucher and DiNozzo, and Jethro pulled Tony away from both shamans.

“It’s okay.” Boucher put his hand on Oberton’s shoulder. “DiNozzo’s guide has been severely attacked, and his own reactions have been compromised by that assault. It’s evident that while he is a shaman, he has had no access to shamanic powers. Agent Gibbs, your agent will need to go on stand down until legal can sort this, and I would recommend you get him to the Djedi center for training on how to access the spirit plane. He’s been damaged enough that he needs a better connection to his spirit guide.

“I’ll take care of DiNozzo,” Jethro said. Even if he had to drag him to the Djedi center kicking and screaming. “But if you tell people he’s been a shaman all this time, he’s going to lose his job.”

Up until now, Tony had been straining against Jethro’s hold, but now he sank into the nearest chair and put his hands over his face. “Oh fuck.” Tony’s words cut through Jethro. Once again, Jethro hadn’t protected someone he cared about. The failure tasted like ash in his mouth.

“I’ll have the FBI legal team call NCIS,” Boucher said. He gave Oberton a fond look. “We just had to complete the same review for Oberton who showed signs of shamanism pretty late in life.”

“Near drowning when I was in high school, but I didn’t have enough power to trip anyone’s shaman alarm until much later,” Oberton said with a shrug. “Look at the bright side, Agent DiNozzo. Even horribly wounded and near death, your guide had enough power for Agent Boucher to recognize the Talent. You could develop into a significant shaman, and law enforcement is always looking for shamans to work Talent cases.”

Jethro glared at the man. If Oberton was trying to recruit Tony, Jethro was going to break the man into small pieces.

“We will need to identify when you became a shaman,” Boucher said. With that and my testimony that your guide was damaged enough to prevent you from using Talent, that should suffice. It would help if there were other shamans who could testify that in the past you were also unable to access your magic.”

Jethro appreciated Boucher’s professional tone, but they couldn’t afford to have Boucher go digging into that mystery. It would be too easy for someone to mention Ziva, and Jethro was almost sure that Abby knew Ziva had talent. Before Jethro could figure out what to say to get them off this track, Tony offered another name.

“The Djedi center in Baltimore. I was working a serial rape case, and all the guys told me the center would kick me out on my ass, but they didn’t. They were a huge help in catching the rapist.”

Boucher nodded. “They probably knew you had Talent, so I’ll contact them and see what sort of impression you made. DiNozzo, you’re one of the few shamans in law enforcement. I will always have your back if I can.”

Tony gave a dismissive snort. Jethro moved to Tony’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. Tony needed to know he had someone he could trust in his corner, and he could trust Jethro. A shiver went through Tony’s frame and then he leaned forward, breaking contact. “As for near-death experiences, you can have your pick. My first vote would be the plague,” Tony said.

“I heard that story,” Oberton said. “That one gets told over at the Hoover building like a campfire horror story. But you were an agent by then.”

“So?” Jethro asked.

Boucher answered. “If someone has Talent, if they don’t seek a guide on the spirit plane, the ability to perceive living magic fades, and their Talent focuses on inanimate magic like crystals or incantations. The travel to the spirit plane has to happen during adolescence, so we’re looking for a near death experience somewhere around fourteen, maybe as late as twenty-two or three.”

Tony lost most of the color out of his face. “Subpoena my records from the Long Island Jewish Medical Center from February when I was twelve.” And with that, he stood and stalked out of the room, his back stiff. Jethro was grateful that neither shaman tried to follow because Tony was acting as prickly as a porcupine, not that Jethro would let that deter him. With a nod at the two feds, Jethro got up and followed Tony out of the room.

At some point, he’d need to talk to Vance, but right now Jethro really only cared about DiNozzo.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Tony stared out over the Naval Yard. He wasn't exactly surprised when he roof door opened, but he didn't know what to expect. Tony's status as a shaman endangered every conviction where Tony had worked in interrogation. Gibbs was going to kill him, but the questioned remained--would it be a slow or a fast death. Gibbs might throw him off the roof or just fire him. Maybe he would pretend to be reasonable and just boot Tony off the MCRT, exiling him to a desk job. All roads would all lead to the same place.

Gibbs came over and sat on the ventilation cover next to Tony. Every muscle in Tony's body tensed and he waited for the ax to fall, but Gibbs--the manipulative bastard--just sat there. Time grew heavy and the distant sounds of the Navy Yard seemed nearly overwhelming.

"I fucked up, huh?" 

"Nope."

Tony stared at Gibbs incredulously. Of all the possibilities Tony had planned for, that wasn't one. The silence grew progressively more awkward until Gibbs spoke again.

"You want to talk about what happened when you were twelve?" Gibbs asked.

Tony would rather spork his own eyes out. "I'm going to have to talk to legal, huh?" Tony figured if there was any chance of saving their convictions, Tony owed it to the victims. 

"Yep," Gibbs said.

"I guess I should practice the story." Tony sighed and waited for Gibbs to run for the hills. Talking about feelings wasn't exactly his thing. He was even less interested in listening to anyone else talk about feelings. However, Gibbs just continued to sit next to Tony. When Tony closed his eyes, he could almost feel Gibbs' body heat. If he talked to Gibbs, Gibbs would see him as a victim. Tony never wanted that--not again. However, if he didn't talk, he knew Gibbs would never understand and never forgive him for risking all their cases.

Ten years. Ten years of administrative reviews and defense lawyer challenges. Tony didn't have to worry about getting fired because NCIS was going to chain him to a desk in the legal department and make him testify in the five thousand appeals defense lawyers were going to file.

"Any time you're ready," Gibbs said.

Tony winced as Gibbs used the same phrase Tony had heard him use so often with victims. "I was a stupid kid." Tony stopped, not sure how to explain what he'd done and what Senior had done. After taking a deep breath, Tony tried to focus on facts, just as if he were testifying. And he was going to have to repeat this story in front of a lot of juries if the defense lawyers had anything to say about it. "My father and I were staying with one of his business associates in a large estate on Long Island. My mother had recently died and I resented my father for not paying attention, so I ran away. He thought I was playing with his associate’s son and didn’t discover I was missing until hours later. I suffered from exposure and spend several days in the hospital.” It all sounded so damn reasonable when Tony said it like that. It was a good tactic to take for the stand. Hopefully none of the defense lawyers would dig too deep into Tony’s background and ask painful follow up questions.

Gibbs pursed his lips and seemed to think about that. Tony held his breath and waited for the final ax to fall on his career.

“So, since I know you and I’ve heard some of the stories from your childhood, let me translate that,” Gibbs said. Tony would have objected vehemently, but Gibbs kept talking. “You father cared more about the deal than a grieving son, so he pushed you off on some nanny or butler and expected them to take you to some play room, but you weren’t about to be ignored so you decided that if you weren’t wanted, you’d just leave. How many hours was it until your father’s associate asked about you?”

Tony hated the lump that formed at the base of his throat. It shouldn’t matter to him. Tony was a grown man, and he shouldn’t care that Senior had shown more sympathy to a dying woman with a brain tumor than he had to his own son. Senior could apologize to her because that didn’t require admitting blame, but he could never look Tony in the eye and say he regretted any of it. Tony didn’t know if his father lacked the ability to regret or if he had just sanitized his own memories so he didn’t remember the worst of it.

“Several hours,” Tony finally admitted.

“Did you tell them about the wolf?” 

“When I woke up in the hospital, sure. They said I was hallucinating. Twelve was too young for a guide to notice me, and I had no Talent in my family. Most people who develop shamanic abilities have Talent somewhere in the old tree.” Tony gave a rough laugh.

“Your father refused to tell them about his Talent,” Gibbs said. Tony didn’t bother answering because Gibbs would put the pieces together. Back then, Talent was either more rare or fewer people admitted to it. Society had equal parts fascination for and fear of Talent, and Senior had no interest in outing himself. Even today Tony wondered if Senior believed the wolf was a hallucination or if he just didn’t care.

It was so hard to tell because Senior came across as so sincere and charming, even when he lied through his teeth. His barbs were always subtle enough that they left Tony wondered if he was overreacting. His insults were buried under layers of saccharine and insincere compliment. No wonder Tony sucked at relationships.

“Is that when he sent you to military school?”

Tony snorted. “He told his friends that I had run away and I needed more discipline than he could give because he loved me too much.” Tony had heard that story years later, and the irony killed him. Senior probably did love Tony, but he certainly never loved him too much or allowed the emotion to get between him and a profit. He sent Tony away because he could make more money without an inconvenient offspring underfoot.

“The wolf ever show up again?”

Tony shook his head and then looked Gibbs right in the eye to make his point. “Boss, I had a couple of dreams, but I never saw anything that led me to believe I had Talent. I wouldn’t have hidden that.” Tony needed Gibbs to believe that. Vance was going to want to crucify Tony, and Tony needed to have one person in his corner. Sure, Abby would support him, but her support included a certain amount of emotional damage. She was going to be pissed that Tony hadn’t told her about his Talent, and he wasn’t sure it would matter that he didn’t know. 

“I know,” Gibbs said.

“Vance won’t believe that,” Tony warned. As much as he wanted Gibbs in his corner, he didn’t want Gibbs to tank his own career.

“My team, my call. Vance can piss in a corner for all I care,” Gibbs said, and he had that fierce expression that usually came two seconds before Gibbs did something really heroic and self-destructive.

“Boss?” Tony sat up.

“You think your father damaged your wolf.”

“Well, yeah. Guides can feed off each other.” And Senior had sent his guide to cannibalize his son’s guide. There was a century of psychotherapeutic issues in that piece of fatherly unlove.

Gibbs grimaced.

Suspicion began to nag at Tony. “Gibbs?”

“There’s another possibility.”

“My father is our best and only suspect here, Gibbs.” Tony didn’t like defending his father, but he had to be realistic. The little boy in him wanted the father-son relationship Senior kept dangling in front of him, but it was all smoke and mirrors and deception.

“Ziva was a shaman.”

“What?” Tony damn near fell off the ventilation unit. 

“She didn’t want to deal with American prejudice.”

Tony shot to his feet. “So you lied to us? Again? How many times are you going to play the almighty, all-knowing lord who lets his underlings have a few tidbits when he feels like it?” Hot anger ran through Tony’s veins, and he could feel a pressure under his skin, like it all wanted to peel off so a newer, bigger Tony could burst through. It was that image of his skin splitting that distracted Tony, and then feeling vanished like smoke. “Maybe it’s good that I can’t be on your team anymore because you sure don’t respect me.”

“What?” Gibbs got up and crowded closer. “I’ve never lost respect for you.”

“Tell someone who might believe it.” Tony whirled around and headed for the stairs, but he hadn’t gotten more than a few steps before Gibbs grabbed him by the arm.

“Get your head out of your ass, DiNozzo. Agencies will cut off their right nut to get a shaman law enforcement officer. Your career options just got better, and I’ll fight like hell to keep you on my team.”

“By keeping secrets?”

Gibbs closed the gap between them so they were chest to chest and Tony fought an urge to back down. “Ziva’s secret, not mine. I kept her away from witnesses who would need to testify and she reported if she ever used Talent in the field. She almost never did. She never told me what her guide was, but I got the feeling that her father was disappointed because it wasn’t impressive or useful. She came here to escape all that.”

From Gibbs, that was almost eloquent, but Tony wasn’t buying it. “She was on my team. I was her SFA. I had a right to know.”

“Maybe, but knowing would put you in danger.”

Tony snorted. “So, it’s for my own good? Not buying it, Boss.”

Gibbs’ jaw tightened, and Tony could tell he had a good head of anger building up. Gibbs did not like being challenged, but as the SFA, one of Tony’s responsibilities was to call bullshit when he smelled it. Tony wondered how long it had been since he had stepped up and done it, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this crap excuse slide, even if it cost him his job.

“Her father sent people to check on her,” Gibbs said. “He assumed that if her shaman status was a secret from us, she was still working for Mossad.”

“Small problem, Gibbs. You knew. Either you didn’t trust me to keep my mouth shut or you’re claiming that if the good Director David had sent a mind reader, you could have kept the secret anyway.” Mindreaders were generally a work of fiction, but Tony knew plenty of Talent users could bring up a topic, like if someone worked with a shaman, and then test the response for truthfulness. It was close enough to mind reading to give Tony the hives.

“I can,” Gibbs said in a growl.

Tony crossed his arms.

“One of my skills is being hard for shamans or adepts to read,” Gibbs said.

“And you know this because…” Tony doubted it was true, but even if it was, there was no way Gibbs could know it. Sure, plenty of mundane people like Abby had a natural openness to magic that let them sense more than the average person, but Gibbs was not exactly a posterboy for being open to mystical forces.

“Counterintelligence work always requires a Talent review,” Gibbs said. “Shamans can’t get a good read on me. Call it part of being a closed off bastard. But that’s why Ziva told me. That fact was in the file she researched on me, and her brother confirmed it.”

The pieces slotted in. “Ari was a shaman.”

“Yep.” Gibbs nodded. “So we have two suspects for who might have put your wolf in that condition.”

Tony shook his head. “I lost my connection to my guide when I was a kid. My father is the only one who had access.” 

Gibbs reached up, and Tony half expected a head-slap. Instead Gibbs rested his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You started changing after she came. I thought you were tired. If I had known you had Talent, I might have suspected something, because you changed so much. Before we go and confront your father, we need to talk to Ziva. We need to find out if she was involved.”

“And you think she’ll tell us?” Tony wanted to believe that Ziva and not Senior had assaulted him, but it felt too much like a desperate and childish hope. Not that he would be thrilled at having a former teammate and lover stab him in the back, but he had experience with that sort of betrayal.

“I think she’ll tell me,” Gibbs said firmly.

Tony frowned as something occurred to him. “Is your gut telling you Ziva is involved?”

Gibbs didn’t answer, but the utter lack of expression on his face said everything. He was hiding every emotion, but then he never had dealt well with betrayal. Tony figured he had less experience with the emotion because if Tony got that upset every time someone stabbed him in the back, he’d never get over being angry.

“Have you considered that your gut comes awfully close to having Talent?” Tony asked.

Gibbs ignored that. “Get us two tickets to Israel while I talk to Vance.”

“Israel?” The last Tony had talked to Ziva, she wanted to travel the world and rediscover the part of her that had wanted to be a ballerina as a child. Clearly Gibbs knew more, but before Tony could ask, Gibbs turned and vanished into the building. Bastard.

But at least the bastard was on his side. That gave Tony some hope.


	9. Chapter 9

Jethro’s temper threatened to boil over, so he walked away from DiNozzo as fast as he could. It hadn’t been his secret, damn it. Ziva had legitimate reasons to fear American discrimination. But the part that made Jethro homicidal was that now he suspected she had other motives—ones she’d hidden from him.

Before Ziva, Tony had been so much more energetic, quicker to recover from the blows this job delivered. But Kate’s death had hit all of them so hard and Jethro knew it had hit him hardest. He hadn’t kept his eye on the ball, and when he finally did start focusing on his team again, he assumed Tony’s change was because of Kate’s death.

Rule eight.

Every time Jethro broke a rule, he paid for it. Or someone else paid for it, sometimes with their lives. He was a damn fool for not pushing the issue with Tony and Ziva earlier. No, he was a jealous fool who didn’t want to ruin whatever happiness other people might find.

Rule twelve.

He couldn’t afford to break that one. But if Ziva had played him… Jethro couldn’t even finish his thought because he didn’t know what he’d do. Damn it. Jethro would have happily shoved all the blame onto Anthony, senior, but the man hadn’t been around enough to do that sort of damage. Maybe he could assault Tony’s guide from a distance, but Jethro’s gut said that Ziva’s guilt and Tony’s magical injuries were related.

And Jethro wasn’t going to walk into a battle with senior until he knew exactly what Ziva had done. Jethro reached the director’s office and made eye contact with his assistant. She didn’t jump out of her seat or seem panicked, so he ignored her calls for him to wait and went through into Leon’s office. Leon shut down his computer and turned to face him.

“Nice to see you. You do know what an assistant is for, don’t you?”

“DiNozzo and I need to go to Isreal.” Jethro also had to admit that it could be a while before legal let DiNozzo back into the field, and Jethro didn’t want to deal with temporary agents. “And you may need to find another team for Bishop and McGee to work with temporarily, but they’re my people and I expect them back. Both of them.”

Leon’s mouth fell open. “Excuse me? Did someone promote you to head of the agency when I wasn’t looking? And why do you need to go to Israel?”

“I think Ziva assaulted a member of my team.” Jethro’s gut roiled just saying it.

“And she did this from Israel?” Leon asked dryly.

“Magically,” Jethro said. 

For the second time, Leon seemed to lose the ability to speak for several seconds. He put both hands on his desk palm down as though unsure of his balance. “Are you saying Ziva has Talent?”

“Could be,” Jethro said. He didn’t want to burn any of her bridges, but he wasn’t going to allow an assault on Tony to slide. He’d let too much go.

“Well, fuck.” Leon turned to the computer and brought up a new screen. While he typed, he asked Jethro, “How long did you know?”

“Officially, I don’t know.”

After Leon finished typing, he turned to give Jethro a dirty look. “That’s a political answer.”

“And you’re a politician,” Jethro countered. If Leon didn’t know the details, he couldn’t get blamed for not addressing them.

“She doesn’t have anything on any of her applications,” Leon said, “not to immigration and not when she applied for an agent’s position.”

“Her issue.”

“And I’d fire her for it, but she doesn’t work here. If she has Talent, we have to inform legal and they’ll need to review cases.”

Jethro gritted his teeth, but it couldn’t be helped. With both him and Tony tied up with legal issues, the other two would need to work with other teams. But legal would eventually figure out that all their convictions would stand. “I never let her near suspects whose testimony we needed. Legal won’t have problems.” The suspects Jethro had allowed her to question were the ones that had information he considered so important that he didn’t mind losing their convictions. He’d even warned a few DAs about Ziva’s temper to warn them off putting her on the stand. He hated every deal those criminals had gotten, but he had made sure that no jury trial ever relied on Ziva’s testimony.

Leon leaned back in his chair. “Which implies you knew she had Talent the whole time, and that means you violated agency rules.”

“Or that I had a gut feeling she wasn’t going to stand up well on the stand. She had a temper and questionable ties to Mossad. A defense lawyer would have ripped her to shreds.” Jethro stared at Leon and silently dared him to start a fight over this. Eventually Leon sighed, just like Jethro knew he would.

“None of this explains why you need to confront her now, and if you do, leave DiNozzo in charge of the team. He can run MCRT until you get back.”

“He has the right to confront her.”

“DiNozzo? DiNozzo is the one she assaulted? What the hell is going on?” Leon stood, which generally meant he was too interested in getting involved in Jethro’s business.

“The FBI shaman was over here and he found that DiNozzo had been severely assaulted on the spirit plane. She’s one of the main suspects. When we get back from Israel, we’ll know more.” And by that time, legal would have heard from the FBI lawyers who sorted out Agent Obertson’s hidden status. Hopefully Vance would be more inclined to deal with DiNozzo fairly if the legal problems were in hand. Leon never had taken to Tony and he didn’t have enough respect for the sort of old-school police work Tony was capable of.

“And what is the purpose of this? Does DiNozzo plan to press charges?” 

Jethro wished he would, but the relationship between Ziva and Tony was too complicated for that. “It depends on what we learn.”

“I don’t see that this is NCIS business.”

“Then we won’t turn in the receipts for reimbursement.”

“But you still plan to go,” Leon said slowly. He sank back down into his chair. “DiNozzo has the experience to lead a team and he could use the practice. Go chase your wild geese, but leave him here to get a little work done.”

Jethro crossed his arms. “Nope.” Experience had taught Jethro that the less he said, the more power he held in the conversation. Since he refused to give Leon any reasons, the man had no way to provide counterarguments. So instead they stared at each other.

“You are a self-destructive old bastard,” Leon finally announced. Jethro couldn’t exactly argue the point so he stayed silent and waited. Leon caved. “One week, and NCIS is not paying for any of this. The time comes out of your vacation pay, and all expenses are yours.”

Jethro nodded and turned to leave. He got to the door before Leon called out. Jethro turned back around.

Leon’s face was serious as he said, “If you need something, call. If she did assault a member of this agency, I am more than willing to get involved. Officially.”

Jethro appreciated that support, especially when Tony was the victim. He gave Leon a nod and then headed out of the office. He needed to get Tony and get on that plane before Leon found out Tony was a shaman. One of the first rules of warfare was to avoid engaging two enemies at once. Legal would have to handle Vance and the legal issues around DiNozzo’s status. Jethro needed to focus on finding out who had done the damage and making sure it never happened again.

Ziva was the first step in that, but she wouldn’t be the last one.


	10. And they're in Israel

Tony studied Gibbs as they climbed off the crowded bus. "Are you going to give my phone back now?" The fact Gibbs confiscated it meant someone was blowing it up. Either Vance wanted to rip into Tony about the mess Tony had made by being a shaman or Abby was demanding answers. Gibbs would be more likely to get involved in the first, especially if he had neglected to tell Vance the whole story.

"Nope," Gibbs said, answering Tony's question about the phone.

The street was fairly quiet here, and the smells of Israel made Tony's arm ache. This place didn't have good memories for him, but he followed as Gibbs strode toward the edge of the small town he'd brought them to. Either he knew where to find Ziva or he was having a psychotic break. With a sigh, Tony followed. "How angry is Vance?" Tony asked. It was a guess, but from the slight tightening of Gibb's shoulders, he'd hit the mark.

"It's on me, not you."

"He signs my paycheck. He can put the blame wherever he wants."

"I told him I had your phone."

So Gibbs really was going to take the blame for this. It didn't reassure Tony since Vance was capable of being angry at both of them at once, but it was comforting to know that Gibbs was willing to stick his neck out. Tony just wondered if that sentiment would survive a meeting with Ziva. She had always had a special place in Gibbs' heart. After she left, Tony could see that play out with Bishop. Gibbs felt so guilty about not giving Ziva whatever it was she needed emotionally that he had given Bishop way too much leeway. Other agents had been booted from the team for doing half the stupid shit she had.

Tony didn't approve of Gibbs' sort of unbending obsessiveness, but until Ziva left, Gibbs had never even tried to consider another point of view. Maybe that made Tony more protective of Ellie. He wanted to prove to Gibbs that people could fuck up and still turn into damn good agents. Sometimes Tony wondered if he was trying to save Ellie or himself from the wrath of an unforgiving Gibbs, but only one of them every needed saving. Gibbs had infinite patience with Bishop, even when Ellie's inexperience in the field led to injuries.

"Do you know where you're going?" Tony asked as the houses began to thin out. Tony didn't relish the idea of wandering around the Israeli countryside and getting lost.

"David family farmhouse," Gibbs said. That was more of an answer than he usually offered, so Tony pushed his luck a little.

"Anyone other than Vance calling?"

"Oberton texted. Said there's a shaman you can train with."

Tony closed his mouth so fast his teeth clacked. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Yes, he desperately wanted to get back to his wolf, but letting someone he didn't know enter that space felt like a betrayal of his guide. Tony had felt that flash of panic from his guide when the wolf realized he'd been seen, and not only that, but strangers had seen him weak and injured. The fear had been so palpable that it made Tony's chest ache.

And now Agent Oberton came in suggesting that Tony work with some stranger to push his way into the wolf's domain. It felt wrong. And Tony had been following his gut too long to set aside all the anxiety just to play nice with the shamanic community.

Maybe Gibbs picked up on some of that because he asked, "Are you going to?"

Tony went with playing dumb. "Going to what?"

Right in the middle of the street, Gibbs stopped and gave Tony the hairy eye of doom. Tony hated that half-disappointed, half-aggressive stare Gibbs had developed.

"I don't know that I want to talk to a stranger about this," Tony said. The wording made him cringe because he was going to have to talk to more strange lawyers than would fit into a cruise ship. "I don't want to let a strange shaman into my wolf's world," Tony amended himself.

Gibbs grunted. Yeah, like that was helpful. But he started walking again. "You going to give up going to that spirit place?"

That was the rub. Tony wanted to get back there like he wanted to breathe. He kept hearing the distant howl of his wolf, and the pained loneliness in those tones tore at his heart. He wanted to sit under the trees and hold his guide, but more than that, he wanted to protect him. And something in Tony's gut told him that required him to hide his wolf. Someone had hurt him, and Tony didn't know how to protect the wolf. The danger was still out there. Instinct told him to hide, and his wolf seemed to feel the same.

During the long silence, Tony watched the town. It was so hard to think of his super secret ninja Ziva out here. People drove trucks down dusty lanes while kids ran barefoot over cobbled walks. It was like the Israeli version of Norman Rockwell. Tony had always imagined Ziva in Paris, going to performances and wandering through the cafes listening to a dozen different languages, most of which she spoke. If this was her home, it made Tony wonder how well he'd ever known her.

"This is it," Gibbs said as they stopped at an iron gate leading into a dirt driving path lined with trees.

"Ziva lives here?" The scene was definitely too pastoral for Ziva. There were goats wandering through the trees. After two days in a place this quiet, the Ziva Tony knew would have climbed walls.

"Yep." Gibbs pushed the gate open and headed up the lane toward the stone building.

Tony followed. "Does she know we're coming?"

"Nope."

Of course not. Sometimes Gibbs was entirely too predictable. Tony actually felt a little sorry for Ziva because no one should be exposed to Gibbs without a little warning. Gibbs strode up to the heavy wooden front door and rang the bell. This was going to be a disaster, and since Tony was still almost positive his father was the attacker, they were going to invade Ziva's space and offend her for nothing.

For a long time, Tony thought that either Ziva wasn't home or she wasn't interested in opening the door. He would have left, but Gibbs stood firm, his arms crossed as he faced the security camera. However, not even Gibbs' glare could open a solid door, and breaking into Ziva's house was just stupid. Tony would walk away if Gibbs even tried it.

"It looks like she's not home," Tony said.

"She's here." Gibbs continued to stare at the camera and a second later, the door slowly opened. Ziva stood there looking about as unZivaish as Tony had ever seen. She had a scarf covering her hair and a black skirt that went almost to her ankles. She might not look like Ziva, but Tony would be a year's salary that she had weapons hidden in there. And she was wearing an American t-shirt with a strange stain on one shoulder. Tony couldn't figure out what to make of that. Maybe she missed America and maybe she was in the middle of doing something so hopelessly rural and messy that she didn't want to ruin a good shirt.

She stared at them for a second before saying cautiously, "Gibbs, Tony." The words were a wary greeting.

"Ziva." Tony couldn't figure out what else to say, and Ziva turned her attention to Gibbs.

"Is there a case? A suspect in the area?"

"Nope." Gibbs' interrogation techniques didn't work as well outside an interrogation room, but he didn't seem interested in changing his strategy. Ziva shifted and tightened her hold on the edge of the door until the knuckles turned white.

Tony jumped in before tempers could fray too much. "We actually came to see you."

If anything, Ziva seemed more worried. "I see."

"To ask you about something." Tony stopped, not sure how to bring up the subject. Hey, have you magically assaulted me seemed a little brusque.

After a second, Ziva raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

Gibbs took a step closer to her, and her chin went up. "Do you have something to say?" Gibbs asked.

She gave him a plastic smile. "It is good to see you. Are you well? Is that what you expect, yes?"

Tony really didn't want to stand out in the heat and watch the two most stubborn people in the universe tap dance, so he came right out and asked. "I thought you might say something about my spirit guide being less damaged."

Ziva drew in a fast breath.

"You did know,” Gibbs said.

Ziva looked around as though expecting a sniper to drop out of her trees. "Come inside if you must. This is not something to discuss on a front porch." With that invitation, Ziva headed into the cool dim interior of the home. It was a nice house with tile floors and heavy furniture that had the nicks and dents of surviving multiple generations of children. Ziva planted herself in front of an interior door and crossed her arms in a near mirror-image of Gibbs.

Now Tony remembered how much he hated getting caught in the middle when these two fought.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Gibbs demanded.

Ziva flinched before glancing over toward Tony. "No doubt Tony has his own reasons for keeping his lips zipped." Something in her words felt oily, and Tony narrowed his eyes and really studied Ziva.

"That’s a lie," he said. He'd never found Ziva particularly easy to read, but he would bet his life on his judgment in this moment.

Her eyes flashed with anger. "Excuse me?"

"You’re lying," Tony repeated. He took a step forward and tried to think that through to the most logical conclusion. She didn't keep the secret because she was respecting Tony's decision, so why had she? Tony could think of one reason. "You figured out that I didn’t know about my guide."

Her answer was quick and insincere. "I do not know what you are talking over."

Gibbs snorted. "Give it up, Ziver."

"Gibbs, this is…" She verbally stumbled before recovering. "We should meet for dinner. Discuss old times in a more friendly atmosphere." She offered another fake smile as she clearly invited them to leave and make an appointment for later.

However Gibbs was on the hunt. "Did you attack Tony?"

Ziva's eyes grew large. "What?" Tony could sense a growing panic, but she was genuinely startled by the accusation.

"Did you?" Tony asked.

She turned on him. "How can you accuse me of such a thing?" The anger was real, but so was the guilt. Tony shook his head, disturbed by how much emotion he could read from her even though her body language was all stiff angles and aggression.

"I made the accusation first," Gibbs said, "because Tony’s guide was injured and you always had more guilt around him than I could understand."

"I toyed with him." The words rushed from Ziva. "It was not something to be proud of. It is part of the reason I had to leave."

"Part. But you feel guilty about what you did to his guide." Gibbs pressed the issue, and Tony stood back and watched. Ziva was more likely to answer Gibbs anyway.

Ziva still appealed directly to Tony. "No. Tony, I never attacked your guide."

"But you knew about him," Tony said.

"Of course I did. I am a shaman. I could see…" She let her words trail off.

"You could see what, Ziva?" Gibbs demanded in a hard voice.

She turned to face him. "I could see he was dying, too injured to protect himself or heal, but unwilling to give up his connection to Tony."

Guilt stabbed Tony in the guts. Shit. His guide was dying because of him, because he hadn't wanted to leave Tony. Tony remembered being twelve and cold and so scared and he'd clung to the wolf's thick fur and he'd wanted so much to not be alone. And the wolf had nearly given his life because he refused to leave Tony alone again. Tony heard the distant howl and the need to touch his wolf was a physical pain in Tony's chest.

"I did not do any of that damage," Ziva said firmly, and Tony's gut told him it was the truth, but not the whole truth. She did something she regretted.

"Then why are you radiating guilt?" Tony asked.

"I did nothing wrong!"

"And yet you feel guilty. What did you do?" Tony took a step closer so he stood next to Gibbs.

"Ziva?" Gibbs asked in a clear warning.

Ziva kept her gaze focused on Tony. "I did not know you well. You were an obstacle, someone who watched too closely. I did not yet know Tony the person."

"What did you do?"

"I did nothing," she insisted, and Tony's anger grew like a bubble in his chest--a hard bubble that threatened to shatter his ribs and crush them all. Ziva continued, "I simply allowed my guide to absorb some of the magic your guide bled."

"You fed off me." Tony couldn't breathe.

"My guide absorbed magic."

Tony took a step backward and collapsed into an overstuffed chair. Every breath was pain. Gibbs shifted so he was in front of Tony, and he said in a cold voice, "Ziva, you betrayed your partner."

"Gibbs, no. The situation was difficult. I did not know who was to be trusted, and the injured guide lost his magic through the wounds he suffered. Parasites had set in. I could not fix that."

"You could have told me," Tony shouted the words and a glass lantern on the mantle rattled.

"How was I to know you were unaware of your own nature?"

Tony looked up. "Because we talked about it. We talked about Talent, and you never told me any of this."

"That was later. It was different then."

Tony forced himself to his feet, and Gibbs was right there with a hand under Tony's elbow, steadying him. "Why? Because I had killed Michael? Is that why you tried to kill my guide?"

"No! I never tried to kill your wolf. I was just not able to keep my guide from him. I tried to protect you. It is why I left."

"What?"

"I told you. I became a woman I did not like. I had to get away."

"From me." Tony remembered that conversation too well. He had followed her to the ends of the fucking earth, and she had told him that she would rather be alone than come back to him. As much as they had as much hate as love between them, Tony had always had her back, and she had thrown him out.

"Yes, from you. Your guide released all that power, and I could not—" She whirled around and turned her back on them.

"Couldn’t what, Ziva?" Now Gibbs was calm, countering Tony's anger.

"Gibbs, you must understand." Ziva leaned her head against the wood door.

"I don’t understand any of it. When we thought you’d died in Africa, Tony demanded we avenge you and look for your body. Tony always stood up for you."

"And he shamed me. Every time I looked at him, I knew what I had done and I couldn’t stop."

"What do you mean, you couldn’t stop?" Tony asked. That's the part that made no sense.

Ziva turned around, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. "My guide had grown used to feeding from you. I couldn’t stop him."

Anger made Tony physically hot. "You could have stopped in the beginning. You let him get used to feeding from me."

She shook her head. "No, I couldn’t have. It’s not… you don’t understand."

Gibbs said calmly, "I think you need to explain, Ziva."

"I can’t, not to a mundane.”

"Ziva." There was the Gibbs growl.

"Gibbs, this is not something I can explain." She emphasized 'can' as if claiming some inability would help her escape the wrath of Gibbs.

His expression and tone was flat as he said, "Try."

She closed her eyes, and for a second, Tony thought she might refuse him, but as much as Ziva had a strange affect on Gibbs, the opposite was also true. After a second, she sank into the straight backed chair flanking the door and began to speak. "Israelis… we are not like the big shamanic powers. We do not control our powers through religion like the Egyptians and the Vatican. Our religion is one thing. Our shamanism is something different, something inherited through nature.” She held her two hands out and stopped speaking.

Tony encouraged her to continue. "You’re going to have to draw the dots a little closer together, there Ziva."

"We train to follow our instincts, to use what the guides provide rather than trying to force them to serve."

"And?"

"And I am limited by the instincts of my guide. You demand that I do things I do not have the power to do. I cannot tell my guide to be what he is not."

That brought up a new problem. Tony wondered if her guide was a carrion eater or one of the parasites she said had already infected his wolf. If her instinct was to feed on others, Tony knew he could never have her around him, and that made him ache. His feelings for Ziva were tangled, and he didn't want a romantic relationship with her again, but they would always have their past and their partnership, and he had once hoped a friendship. But he would never risk his wolf for her. "And what is your guide?"

"That is personal." Ziva's voice took on a brittle quality.

Gibbs spoke before Tony could appeal to her sense of fairness. "If you don’t want to give full disclosure, we can call the head of the DC shamanic council and ask him to come out and investigate."

Ziva hand waved that away. "He has no authority here."

"I hear he has the backing of the full Egyptian council. Would Israel protect you in a full international conflict over your assault of a shaman in his territory?"

Ziva's head snapped up so fast that Tony thought she might get whiplash. "Gibbs, you cannot."

"God damn it, then explain why. Explain why I should cover for you again," Gibbs demanded.

Tony could see the moment something in Ziva snapped. She sagged in the chair and almost whispered, "Because my guide is a wasp."


	11. Chapter 11

Her guide was a wasp.

Jethro looked at Tony to see if that meant anything to him. Ever since they had returned from the spirit plane, Tony had changed so much that Jethro wasn't sure what to expect.

In some ways, he was the old Tony of Jethro's memory. He was much more amused at Jethro's games, like when Jethro had confiscated his phone. The contrast just drew Jethro's attention to how brittle Tony had grown through the years . But there was something more. Tony's surface charm was at full strength, but that had never really vanished. What Jethro saw in Tony was both a deeper insight than Tony had ever shown before paired with a return of that underlying sense of power and sensuality that Jethro had thought he'd grown immune to. He'd lied to himself. Because now that Tony's guide was healed and Tony was back to acting like the brash and confident investigator Jethro had once known, all Jethro's ability to ignore his own desires had vanished. His lust for his second was stronger than ever. His lack of self-control and Tony's sudden unpredictability were making Jethro grumpier than usual.

Tony shrugged, his eyes wide, so Jethro turned his attention to Ziva.

"What difference does that make?"

"You can't understand. You're a mundane," Ziva said. Jethro didn't need Tony's new nearly telepathic powers to see how broken Ziva was. Jethro went to Ziva's side and crouched down.

"Talk to me. Talk to Tony. He's a shaman and he doesn't know how to be."

Ziva looked up at Tony, and Gibbs could see the attraction was still there. She wanted him. Badly. And yet the guilt was all over her. After a few seconds, she dropped her gaze back down to the floor.

"Guides are drawn to people with similar personalities, and we are taught to use that connection--to find our true selves." From the way Ziva whispered the words, Jethro assumed this was not public information.

"So, your guide is a wasp, so you're wasplike?" Jethro could see that. Ziva was a fierce fighter.

"Wasps protect the nest." Ziva drew in a deep breath. Before Jethro could ask her more, Tony made one of those intuitive leaps of his.

"Mossad was your nest."

Ziva nodded, and Jethro could see the problem laid out in front of him. She did anything for Mossad, and she saw her Talent as part of the reason she felt trapped. Jethro's temper frayed.

"I don't care what your guide is, you had a choice," Jethro said firmly.

"That's not how it works," Ziva said.

"So, you have no free will?" Jethro asked. If he followed her logic, that's where they'd end up. "You're an animal following your guide's instincts, and that's why you came out here?"

"No," she snapped, righteous anger pulling her out of that strange mental withdrawal she was retreating into. "I wanted to be better. I wanted to stop hurting..." Ziva looked at Tony. "I don't control my guide. He wouldn't stop."

"Make him," Jethro said without mercy. He'd seen enough stupid movies and television shamans to know they controlled their guides all the time. They made their guides bring them power so they could do crap with their Talent, although Jethro suspected that most of what happened on television was pure fantasy. Jethro figured it would have ended up on the news if anyone actually had the power to summon tornados or kill with the sweep of an arm.

"Boss," Tony said softly. He was always too quick to forgive, and Jethro had been right there encouraging him to. Jethro carried that guilt next to all his old wounds.

"No. She is not an animal and she will not blame her guide for all of this."

Ziva shot out of her chair. "You do not know what it is to feel another's thoughts all the time. He wished to protect the nest. All else did not matter."

"So none of us mattered?" Jethro asked, his voice low. He stood and backed away from her, and maybe she saw the danger.

"No, of course not. I wanted to make a new life."

Tony replied. "You wanted Gibbs to be the center of your new nest, but where did that leave the rest of us?"

"I did not know!" Ziva threw her hands up. "My father... he hoped I would be something more impressive--more dangerous. But he saw in me a child who would be always faithful. He wanted my sting to serve Mossad always. He sent me against Ari." Her voice cracked. Jethro had no idea how being a shaman slotted into this mess, but he knew that her father had damaged her beyond all belief, and still she had been faithful to him in the end. She had hidden his identity all the way up to the point that Jackie Vance had died in an assassination targeting the man. Ziva never put NCIS first. She never put her team first. And something in Jethro rebelled against the idea that she could blame her guide for any of that.

Tony slowly stood and moved like an old man. "After Somalia, after he'd abandoned you and we were the ones to come and get you, why wouldn't you give us your loyalty?" Tony sounded so hurt, but he was the same. Even after everything his father had done, Tony had taken his father in. Neither of them had been able to cut off fathers who had damaged them. Jethro wondered if he would have caused his own girls as much harm if they'd lived. Would he have forgotten to put them first? He'd gone off to war leaving Shannon to raise Kelly alone, so Jethro wasn't sure. Even if he'd left the service, he might have gotten so caught up in his work that he would have been one more man emotionally gutting his child. The thought almost broke Jethro, but he had a task to focus on.

"Why didn't you stay with us if you were so driven by your guide to find a nest?" Jethro asked, repeating Tony's question since Ziva hadn't answered it yet.

Ziva turned on Tony. "Because of you. How can I want you and feel safe in your arms when I know how I've hurt you and how I'll hurt you again. I am not the sort of woman you should have, and I don't like who I become when I am with you. I am jealous. I am determined to prove I am worth loving, but I look at you and see how easily you love, and I feel like I am less. I want to give you loyalty, but it is as if the ease with which you give your loyalty mocks me. I cannot be near you and be a good woman. My wasp would feed on you to remove the conflict."

Tony looked like he'd been hit with a rotting fish. What a fuck up.

Jethro rested his hand on Tony's shoulder. "You are feeling guilty because you lied, Ziva. That's all it is."

"No, as a shaman--"

"Enough," Jethro said loudly, cutting her off. "You are a human being. Having a connection to a guide doesn't make you any more or less human. Stop using that as an excuse." Jethro knew there were legal cases where suspects did lose themselves in their guide's emotions and turned into primal monsters, but that always included drugs or some overwhelming situation. A few years back, a man's wife had been murdered in front of him during a home invasion. The man was a shaman, and he'd gone primitive, attacking the intruders and later the police with all the viciousness of a wild animal. However, Ziva was talking like she ceded all her human judgment. Shamanism didn't work that way. Jethro didn't know how it worked, but he would not accept that Tony had one ounce less control, and he wouldn't accept Ziva making excuses for herself.

Ziva sat. "You should leave."

Jethro moved closer. "Did you ever actively harm Tony?"

"No." She looked up at Jethro and his gut said she was telling the truth, but Tony said with certainty, "That's a lie."

Jethro turned to Tony and waited for an explanation.

"I don't know what she did, but she's lying about never hurting me."

"I absorbed what energy was there; I never touched your guide," Ziva said. Tony frowned, but he didn't contradict her.

Jethro focused on Ziva. "And if you hadn't taken that energy, would Tony's guide have healed?"

Ziva looked away. It was a long time before she said, "I don't know. Perhaps."

"Christ," Jethro swore softly. He turned to look at Tony, but DiNozzo was clearly distracted. He had his head tilted to the side and a curious expression. "DiNozzo?"

Tony stared at Ziva. "Who else is here?"

Ziva scrambled to her feet and swore in Hebrew.

"DiNozzo?" Jethro repeated louder, but something shifted in DiNozzo's body language. He channeled something alien and powerful as he moved forward. Jethro caught Tony by the arm, and a shiver travelled through him where they touched. It was like holding a low-powered electrical line, but at least Tony stopped.

"Tony, stand down," Jethro ordered, but Tony ignored him.

"Who is here?" he demanded.

Ziva puffed up like an angry cat. "She is not your business."

"Who is it?" Tony demanded.

Ziva lifted her chin, and Jethro could feel the danger swirling the room like a storm cloud. "I am her mother," Ziva cried. Jethro felt the truth like a punch to the gut. Ziva had a child. Ziva had Tony's child. Jethro looked at DiNozzo and he had lost all the color out of his face.


	12. Chapter 12

The pressure built in Tony's chest, and he wanted to hurt Ziva. She had his child. She'd hidden his child from him after feeding from his guide, ensuring that his guide would never gain the strength to recover and defend himself. The anger was so great that Tony couldn't see anything but the enemy in his path. Ziva. She had done this. Then Gibbs caught Tony's arm. While Tony could have easily pulled free, he stilled. Instinct told him that he could hurt Gibbs too easily right now.

"Are you now to show your true colors?" Ziva demanded. Tony could sense the determination, the sense of danger and her silent warning to sting him, and yet he instinctively knew her sting wouldn't be enough. His wolf howled, and for a second, Tony braced to throw himself on her. But Gibbs' fingers tightened into his arm, and Tony fought against the fury.

Ziva had hidden his child, and Tony didn't know where to begin with his feelings. Children terrified him. Tony set all that thought aside for later, possibly after a large quantity of alcohol or after he'd found a good therapist.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Gibbs demanded.

"I would not have my daughter in the middle of this conflict. I would not have her see who I had become," Ziva cried, and Tony could feel the truth of the worlds like cold, clear water. Ziva's love lacked any taint of guilt or anger. She loved her child, and she was desperate to protect her. Tony now understood why she had come out here. She wanted to keep their child away from enemies.

"So you lied to us?" Gibbs demanded. Tony couldn't even imagine how this was hitting all Gibbs' buttons, and maybe Tony was focusing on that because he didn't know what to feel for himself. He couldn't process the idea that he had a child.

Ziva's angst fell away and she gave Gibbs a cold look. "You did not ask."

Tony got the feeling that bloodshed was imminent, and he had enough trauma already without letting Ziva's father issues with Gibbs get in the middle of this fuck up. "I want to see her."

Ziva's expression turned fierce. "No."

Tony didn't know where his anger came from, but he shouted, "She's my child!"

"I have raised her," Ziva yelled back just as loudly.

"Because you didn't tell me!" Tony's skin itched with anger, and then he heard the growl, low and heavy and loud enough to fill the room. Ziva's eyes grew large.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said, his voice fierce even though he kept it so soft it was almost a whisper.

"You will not keep me away from my daughter," Tony said. He could feel his wolf at his back, and the guide was snarling and ready to attack. 

Tony took a deep breath and focused on calming his own thoughts before his wolf got the wrong idea and attacked. The worst part was that a tiny part of Tony wanted to attack Ziva. He wanted to make her pay for hiding his daughter and making him feel like he hadn't been good enough for her. When she'd sent him away with nothing more than her necklace after they'd shared a bed, Tony had felt like a complete failure. He'd given Ziva everything. He'd risked his career and his life to show her that he would always have her back. He'd shared her bed and forgiven the ways she'd misused him, and he'd thought she'd forgiven him the many ways he'd hurt her. Instead, she let him believe that she couldn't love him, couldn't trust him. She'd made him feel like it was him forcing her into the box of ninja-Ziva so she couldn't find her dreams. He'd felt like he'd emotionally abused Ziva.

And the whole time, she had been hiding her own guilt.

"You cannot come dancing into her life and then leave again," Ziva said.

"I lost my own mother as a child. Why are you assuming I'd leave my child?" Tony demanded. Ziva's expression was closed off, but Tony took a deep breath as he realized what she was saying. "You think I hate you enough that I won't have anything to do with our daughter."

Ziva didn't say anything, but Gibbs did. "If she thinks that, she doesn't know you very well."

She pivoted to face off against Gibbs. "I do know him. I have harmed him. It is as you said, Gibbs, I betrayed my partner. He will not forgive that."

"No, I won't forgive that," GIbbs said. "Tony is nicer than I am."

Tony felt like making a joke about how that wasn't a high bar, but the words didn't fit in his mouth. Not now. All he wanted now was to see his child. "Ziva, where is my daughter?"

She turned toward him. "You do not like children."

"I don't like other people's children," Tony corrected her. He moved forward, and she bent her elbows slightly. Before Tony could even register the danger, his wolf was there between them, hackles raised and growling. Ziva retreated and ended up with her back against the door.

"Tony!" Shock colored her voice.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs warned. He had less shock and more aggravation in his voice. "Ziva, move."

She looked at him. "Gibbs!"

"Ziva, you are the one who said that shamans can't control their guides, and you're standing between a wolf and a child he considers his own. Do you really want to push this?"

Ziva looked down at the wolf and then up at Tony. "I am a good mother. You do not have to worry about her. I will always protect her." Her words had a strength to them, a fierceness that told Tony that she meant it. She had given up everything except their daughter, and now she held their daughter close. Maybe too close. Children deserved to play, to explore the world and make their own mistakes, and Ziva had a brittleness about her that suggested she was too afraid of the world—too afraid of losing her daughter. It made Tony worry about his daughter.

“I will be a good father.”

Ziva grimaced.

Tony narrowed his eyes. He understood her need, but he would not allow her to "I'm her father and she has a right to know me." He pulled his arm away from Gibbs and strode forward. The second he touched his wolf, the guide vanished. Then, before he could reach Ziva, Gibbs hurried to grab her arm and pull her to the side. Tony went through the door into a long corridor. The wolf’s tail vanished into a door near the end of the hall, and Tony headed for it.

“You cannot go in there!” Ziva called.

“Give it up, Ziva,” Gibbs said as the two of them followed Tony. “This is his daughter. You can’t stop him from seeing her.” 

The fact Gibbs was backing him up shocked Tony, but he took advantage to get ahead of the two of them. They were still squabbling when the wolf appeared and then vanished through a new door. Tony pulled on it, and the heavy blast door slowly opened to show a nursery inside. One brick wall was painted in wild colors with a blue and yellow zebra drinking at a surreal pond while a turquoise turtle watched and a red seagull flew overhead. In the center, huge letters in English and Hebrew spelled out the name: Tali.

Slowly Tony walked toward the play pen in the center of the room. The child was not a baby and not yet a little girl—she was sort of halfway between. She looked up at Tony with wide, dark eyes and chortled, and something in Tony’s heart stopped. Behind him, Gibbs was urging Ziva back and out, but Tony didn’t care. He looked at that small face and he could see Ziva in her dark eyes, but he could also see his own mother’s baby pictures in the wild curls and light brown hair.

Gibbs moved to Tony’s side, and Tony could only stare as his daughter held out her hands. “What do I do?” Tony asked.

With a huff, Gibbs reached down and scooped her up. “You love her, DiNozzo.” Gibbs held her, bouncing her a little as she smiled at him and giggled. Tony had a daughter. He had a beautiful daughter.

Tony reached out and touched her leg. 

“She’s real. Come on. Hold your daughter.” Gibbs held Tali out toward him.

Tony took a step backward. “What if I break her?”

“Fathers have been terrified of that for millennia,” Gibbs said without mercy. “Man up and hold your daughter, DiNozzo.” He shoved Tali toward Tony, and Tony took her in his arms out of instinct more than intent. His daughter.

She looked at him and smiled. “Ima!”

Tony stared at her. Ima. Mother. Tony looked at Gibbs, not sure what to tell the child, but he was wandering around the tidy room. Gibbs stopped near a shelf and picked up a picture of Tony and Ziva. Tony recognized it from Berlin. 

“She’s not hiding you from Tali,” Gibbs said. Tony walked over toward him and looked at the photo. He and Ziva were both laughing, and his heart tightened as the betrayal hit him. 

“How can I ever trust her?” Tony asked.

Tali reached for the picture. “Ima! Aba!” Mother. Father. Ziva had shown the child a picture of Tony and expected that to stand in for having a real father. Tony turned toward the door, but it was shut, and this was a bomb shelter, so Tony couldn’t hear anything outside the room. 

“DiNozzo, you have to decide,” Gibbs said quietly, and Tony was freaking out because that was the voice he used with victims. “Which do you feel more strongly—love for that child or anger at her mother?”

Tony turned to face Gibbs. He had no right to ask that question because Tony was entitled to feel both. Gibbs kept his gaze focused on the little girl. “Every second you spent trying to get even with Ziva for this is a second where you hurt your daughter. Are you willing to hurt her?”

Tony held Tali closer at the very question. “Of course not.”

“Then we have to take this calmly and logically.”

“She’s built a nursery in a bomb shelter. She’s hiding. How is any of this okay?” Tony demanded. His heart ached for it all, but most of all, he feared for Tali growing up under this cloud of paranoia, although in Ziva’s case, she might have enough enemies to warrant the security.

“I’m not saying it is okay, but you’ve got to keep your calm. Can you do that?” Gibbs asked.

“Do I have a choice?”

“If you want to protect your daughter, no.” Gibbs studied Tony for a second, and Tony could feel the weight of his gaze. If Tony wanted to have a place in his daughter’s life—if he wanted to protect Tali from Ziva’s paranoia or her past or whatever had made Ziva build the nursery in the safe room—then Tony had to be reasonable with Ziva. She was Tali’s mother. And since they were in Israel and she was Jewish, Tony had no hope of going to the courts for help. He had to convince Ziva to do the right thing.

Tony nodded. Message received. He had to stay calm and put Tali’s interests first. “Let her in.”

Gibbs continued to study Tony for a second as though looking for a sign that Tony was about to fuck this up. But Tony knew the stakes, and he buried all his anger and his longer under brittle layers of calm and logic. Gibbs headed over to the door and pushed it open, revealing Ziva right on the other side. 

She rushed forward toward Tony and Tali, but then she stopped a foot away, her gaze darting from Tony to Tali and back. Tony could feel her fear and guilt and apprehension like a whirlwind of emotion, and Tali started to cry.


	13. Chapter 13

Jethro was proud of Tony. The moment he had taken his daughter in his arms, he had focused on her. Even the general sense of danger and power had fallen away, leaving Tony staring at his daughter in awe. Jethro’s heart ached as the feeling of holding Tali polished old memories that Jethro usually pushed away through bourbon and work. Now that Tony was under control, Jethro went over and opened the door to allow Ziva in. He’d shoved her back and ordered her to give Tony some space, but honestly, he was shocked she had followed the order. 

The second the door opened, she hurried toward Tali, but she stopped a couple of feet from Tony and stared at him. The two radiated distrust, but Jethro only got a sense of loss and desire from Ziva. Tony was closed off—holding tightly to Tali and staring at Ziva the way he had after the whole Rivkin mess. Jethro doubted he would forgive this betrayal as quickly.

“How could you?” Tony asked, the pain clear, and if it wasn’t obvious enough, a wolf howled in the distance. Jethro hadn’t been around many shamans, but he wasn’t sure that was normal. Ziva even flinched.

Ziva looked away. “I have protected her.”

“By keeping her in a bomb shelter?”

“She plays outside,” Ziva said with such defensiveness that Jethro knew Tali didn’t play outside nearly as often as she should. Ziva’s guilt was front and center. But Jethro had a hard time blaming her because her own parent had used his three children—putting them in the middle of his grand war and moving them around like chess pieces. Jethro had more respect for an overprotective parent than one who would use his children like that.

“What life does she have here?” Tony demanded

“Better than the one she would have with you. I am her mother.”

“I am her father!”

Tali twisted up her face and started to cry, and Jethro waded between them. “Both of you, knock it off.” He took the little girl from Tony. “Fix this.” With that, Jethro retreated to the corner and sat in a rocking chair. Having a little girl in his arms was equal parts heaven and hell, but Tony and Ziva needed him to be the calm figure in the room, so he repressed all his emotions and watched as the two faced off. In the past, Jethro would have bet on Ziva winning any battle, physical or emotional. 

However, Tony had a new strength—one that reminded Jethro of the man he’d met in Baltimore. Jethro reconsidered that. No, he’d seen a shadow of this strength back then. Jethro’s gut had told him that there was iron at the core of Tony, but he had assumed that the breakup with his fiancée and the betrayal of his partner had tarnished that strength. Instead of recovering, after Kate’s death, Tony had grown more and more brittle. Now Jethro could see the power he’d once sensed in Tony.

Tony took a deep breath, and when he spoke, he was calmer. “I won't walk away, Ziva.”

Ziva glanced over toward Jethro and Tali before focusing on Tony again. “You don't have a place here.”

“You don't either. Look at what you're doing--hiding in a farmhouse and keeping our daughter in a bomb shelter. There's no place for you or for our daughter to have a healthy childhood.”

“She is safe.”

“Her limbs, her body, maybe. But she's going to grow up.” Tony gestured around the room. “Do you really think she's going to be healthy growing up isolated from everyone and everything?”

Ziva drew herself up. “I would not do that.”

“Look at you! You already are doing that. Your fear is controlling you.”

That hit the mark so well that Ziva flinched. However, she was not ready to cede the fight. Tali started to breath faster, and Jethro bounced her to distract her from the stress.

Ziva clenched her teeth before saying, “I'm protecting her.”

“No, you aren't. That little girl should have friends. She should be playing outside and exploring the world. What the hell is wrong with you that you think any of this is okay?” Tony started to raise his voice.

Jethro spoke up before they could go off the rails, but he kept his tone light as he made eye contact with Tali and smiled. “DiNozzo, you have every right to be angry, but you need to think about how that anger affects your child. The only parent that little girl has ever known is Ziva, and attacking her is the same as attacking your child.” 

The silence the followed spoke of Tony’s guilt. When he spoke again, he had a much softer tone. “I never wanted that.”

“This is why I took her away. You deserve to have a life, and we deserve to have peace, and what I have done is the best way.” Ziva came over and held out her arms for her daughter. Jethro would have happily ignored her tacit request, but when Tali reached for her mother, Jethro surrendered the child. Since Ziva had come to stand next to him, maybe he could get her to see a little clearer.

“No, it's best for you because you didn't have to face what you did. Now Tony, what do you think would be best for your daughter?”

Tony immediately answered, “I want to be in her life.”

Ziva flinched. 

“I have a right to that.”

“Focus on Tali,” Jethro reminded him. He didn’t blame Tony for his anger—he would have been equally furious. But with Tali in the room, none of them could afford to indulge in that emotion.

Ziva flashed Tony a smug look.

Jethro’s anger started to boil over. He was not siding with her, and yet she was trying to twist it around to look like he was. She never changed. Jethro stared right at her. “Tony is right. Tali needs to know her father and other people if she is going to grow up healthy.”

Betrayal colored her expression. “Tali is safe.”

“You keep saying that, but she isn't. She lives in a bomb shelter like you expect an imminent attack. She needs to be around people. She needs to have a normal life with a mother and a father.” Jethro pinned her with his most unforgiving glare. Ziva broke eye contact first, and her body language screamed her discomfort. She knew she was out of line. Jethro exchanged a look with Tony, understanding passing between them like when they worked in interrogation.

When Tony spoke, his voice had a much more conciliatory tone. “Ziva, do you really think we would let something happen to her?” Tony asked softly.

Ziva wrapped her arms around Tali and held her tightly. “You could not protect her.”

“The hell I can’t,” Tony said fiercely. Tony's wolf appeared again, his hackles raised and he teeth shown in a deep growl. Jethro had an urge to hold his breath, but he knew that the wolf wasn’t real in a physical sense. It could certainly damage a magic user, but as far as Jethro knew, a spirit guide couldn’t hurt a mundane. Right now Jethro hoped that was true because Tony’s guide was terrifying. 

Ziva took a deep breath.

“You don't need to live here to be safe,” Tony said firmly.

“Tony.” Ziva said the name with such desperation that Jethro knew she was close to the edge, but her guilt about draining Tony’s guide was still in the room with them, so she was going to have a lot of trouble trusting him. If Tony had done the same to Ziva, she would have sought revenge. Luckily for her, Tony was more forgiving. But Jethro wasn’t sure Ziva would listen to Tony because she would always be waiting for him to retaliate.

“Ziva, you need to come home,” Jethro said.

She turned her pain-filled gaze toward Tony.

“Come back.”

She shook her head. “You cannot mean that, not after what I have done.”

“Ziva, I will never trust you or your guide near my wolf. I won't,” Tony said firmly. “But Gibbs is right--our daughter comes first. You are her mother, and I want to make sure you can continue being her mother.”

“In America.”

“Yes.”

Ziva raised her chin. “Where you will have the legal upper hand.”

Tony threw his hands in the air. “You’re an American citizen, you've raised the child this far without me, and you're the mother. You have the legal upper hand in America. But I won't allow you to continue to raise my daughter in a bomb shelter.”

Jethro rolled his eyes as they circled back to the same damn point. If he’d ever met two more stubborn human beings in his whole life, he couldn’t remember them. Before Jethro could interrupt them, Ziva was in Tony’s face, Tali shifted to her hip.

“If something were to happen, it is the most secure area,” Ziva said.

“If someone came and shot you, she would be locked in a room with a door too heavy for her to open, and then she could slowly die of starvation and thirst,” Tony countered.

Ziva paled. "That would not happen."

“It could and you know it. Don't play stupid,” Jethro said before they could continue. Move back to DC.   
You can stay at my house.” The second Jethro said that, he could see the shadow of betrayal on Tony’s face. Jethro had made enough mistakes that he feared one more could permanently damage their relationship, so he added. “Tony, you're welcome to move in as well. I have four bedrooms.” Jethro schooled his features to reveal nothing because Jethro hadn’t used his fourth bedroom in twenty years. He’d locked his daughter’s bedroom and refused to let anyone use it. 

However, he could imagine his little girl would have taken Tali under her wing. She would have wanted to help such a wide-eyed child who had so much against her. By the time Kelly was Tali’s age, she was an outgoing and happy child. In comparison, Tali was too quiet and too withdrawn.

From the look of horror on Tony’s face, he understood the meaning of Jethro offering all four bedrooms. “Boss, we couldn't.”

Jethro snorted. “Stop being stupid. Of course you can.” Jethro took Tali from Ziva’s arm. “Go make three reservations for the next flight to DC.” Jethro used his most authoritative voice, and Ziva reacted. After a brief pause, she turned and headed out of the room.

“Boss,” Tony said.

Jethro handed Tony his daughter. That cut off any further discussion. Right now, Jethro wasn’t prepared to talk about what it would mean to have a new child in Kelly’s room. But if that was the only way to get Ziva to give up her ridiculous plan to raise a child in a bomb shelter, then had to do the right thing. Kelly wouldn’t want him to turn his back on family, and Jethro hoped that the bonds that tied him and Tony together hadn’t degraded so much that Jethro had lost Tony and now Tali as family.


	14. Chapter 14

“Well this is a good sign,” Tony said sarcastically before dropping into the seat next to Gibbs. Ziva had gotten herself a seat in the business section, and he and Gibbs were exiled to economy. Tony would have rated this as worse than flying military, but she had been kind enough to buy the center seat so he and Gibbs had the row to themselves.

“Would you rather she sit here?” Gibbs glanced down toward the center seat. Tony imagined how that would go—Ziva between them, feeling trapped and angry. After a second, Gibbs said, “Exactly.”

“It’s still not a good sign.” Tony started wiggling his foot, but when he realized he had started fidgeting, he stopped before he could annoy the boss too much. Tony figured Gibbs was probably near his limits already, especially since Tony had managed to break rule twelve so spectacularly. From the beginning, Ziva had gotten him all turned around, and that never changed. What had changed was Tony’s interest in having any relationship with a woman who would hide his child, lie to drive him away, and all that after draining Tony’s guide of his power. 

There were layers of wrong there.

“Look, boss, we should probably talk.”

Gibbs grunted. Of course he did. God forbid he have a real conversation like a normal person. Most of the time Tony appreciated Gibbs’ eccentricities, but right now he really wished the man would just pretend to be normal.

“So, when I get my phone back, am I going to find out that Vance is sending me out to sea angry or firing me angry?”

“He won’t do either,” Gibbs said in a fierce growl. Tony wished he could trust that, but he couldn’t afford to have illusions. He did have money saved—more than most would probably suspect. He couldn’t live easily, but if he could get a partial retirement from NCIS, he could afford to retire. Well, as long as he was okay being poor. Another few years and he could have taken early retirement, but with his new status as a shaman, Tony probably didn’t have a lot of choice.

Although realistically, NCIS might keep him around until all the court cases he’d worked got through the appeals process. That might take long enough to get him to early retirement.

“Boss, we have to be realistic. I know Vance won’t let me stay on the team, and frankly, I’m going to count myself lucky if I get to stay at NCIS until I get my finances in order.”

Gibbs turned and gave him an incredulous look. Clearly Gibbs disagreed, which didn’t mean much. Gibbs pulled Tony’s phone out of his jacket. “Call Vance.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be a happy conversation,” Tony said, but since he was a bandage fast sort of guy, he opened his texts and started reading. Mostly he had a lot of orders to call Vance ASAP with a few texts from Gibbs telling Vance that he refused to pass on the message. Tony gave Gibbs a dirty look before checking his watch. It was just after 1:30 in the afternoon, so it would be either 6:30 or 7:30 back in DC, Tony couldn’t remember, and he didn’t want to look up the conversion with Gibbs sitting next to him. It was early, but not middle of the night, so Tony took a chance and dialed the number Vance kept leaving.

On the third ring he got a terse, “Gibbs, I swear to God if you don’t give DiNozzo his phone I’m going to put out an international hold on sight order.”

“Sir,” Tony said uncertainly. He had no idea what Gibbs had been doing with his phone, but apparently it hadn’t been good. “This is DiNozzo.”

“Oh.” There was an ominous pause and then some audible shuffling of paper. “Okay, I need to ask a few questions, and when you answer, keep in mind that you will have to answer these again during a lie detector and during an examination by the shamanic council.”

“Examination?” That sounded dangerous. “What would that entail?”

“I have no idea. Now, before Agents Boucher and Oberton visited NCIS, did you know you had Talent?”

“No.”

“And when did you go on your shamanic journey?”

Tony opened his mouth, but he had no answer for that. He certainly didn’t want to get into his shitty history with Senior, not now and not with Vance. Before Tony could decide what to say, Gibbs had snatched the phone out of Tony’s hand.

“Leon, that’s a little personal for him to answer while on a plane full of strangers. Now tell DiNozzo he’s still on the team and we’ll talk to you when we get back to DC.” Gibbs thrust the phone back at Tony.

Tony took it and apologized to Director Vance. “Sorry, sir. He took the phone.”

“He does that,” Vance said dryly. “But he is correct that you still have your job. You will need to work with JAG to address any hearing defense attorneys may schedule and get a legal certification on the limitations of Talent on the job, but that’s all logistics. My question is whether you can get control of your Talent well enough to use them on the job.”

Tony blinked. He hadn’t expected that question. He’d mentally prepared for every possibility that included getting fired, but it hadn’t occurred to him that Vance might see potential Talent as an advantage. “Um, I don’t know. I can’t actively do anything.” Tony couldn’t even summon his wolf. He’d tried all night, and spectacularly failed. Tony would be doubting his Talent right now, only his wolf had shown up to defend Tony’s right to his daughter. And Tony could feel the wolf in the back of his mind. His guide was a shadow lurking through the dark corners of the world, watching and always prepared to leap to Tony’s defense. It was a comforting presence, but Tony wasn’t sure he could turn that into an actual advantage during an investigation.

If anything, Talent was more of a deterrent right now. If a suspect asked for a Talent-free interrogation, Tony would be immediately banned from the room. It limited Tony’s options, especially since he would have to notify suspects of his status.

“Find someone to train with. I understand Boucher runs the Talent unit over at the FBI and he has a number of techniques he uses on scene. It’s an area where you can distinguish yourself,” Vance said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Report when you land.”

“Yes, sir. We’re just going to drop Ziva off at Gibbs’ house and then we’ll be there.”

“Ziva? Ziva David?” Tony cringed. He probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. When Tony looked over, Gibbs was giving him the hairy eye.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned that. Forget I said that last part.”

“Are you pressing charges against her for assault?”

“Absolutely not,” Tony said firmly. He didn’t know whether or not her actions were assault, but with a child in the middle, he refused to even consider it. The only thing that had kept Tony sane through the hard times were the memories of his mother. Her laugh. The way she would lean forward during a beautiful piece of music. Her tears flowing during movies. The way she would fall asleep with a glass of booze and dump it down her leg. They weren’t all good memories, but she had loved him, and Tony had clung to that when life got hard.

And he could see the same devotion in Tali when she reached for Ziva and watched her with those large dark eyes. His daughter adored Ziva, so Tony would do whatever he needed to in order to make sure they stayed together. The only way he’d press charges was if Ziva took Tali and ran. He wasn’t even afraid of her wasp guide because Tony’s gut told him that her guide was no match for his now that his wolf had recovered.

“Long story,” Tony said.

There was an awkward pause before Vance finally said, “Brief me when you’re back in DC.” And then he hung up.

Tony ended the call and put his phone in his pocket before Gibbs could confiscate it again. “Vance is interested in me developing my Talent at work.”

“He should be.”

“Seriously? I thought you’d vote for avoiding it.” As far as Tony was concerned, Gibbs vetoed any investigative method that involved technology he didn’t understand. Sure, Gibbs understood the value of progressive methods, which is why he brought on first Tim and then Ellie, but he was hard-core old school.

“If the tool works, use it.” Gibbs studied Tony. 

“Even if it’s legally a mess and could lead suspects to challenge the authenticity of our evidence?”

“NCIS has wanted someone with Talent for a long time. Fibbies have their own team, and the CIA isn’t even subtle about recruiting. Do you think all those people would recruit if the tool wasn’t valuable?”

Tony knew there was only one answer, and Gibbs didn’t say things just to reassure an insecure subordinate, but Tony still had trouble wrapping his head around it. Talent made Vance value him more. Yeah, that sounded wrong. Instead of dealing with the issue, Tony changed the subject. “Are you sure you want Ziva and Tali at your house?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”

“But this can’t be easy… having a little girl in your house. I can afford to get them a place.” Especially now that it looked like he might still have a job.

“Nope. You’re a father. You need to start putting money aside for Tali’s education.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Gibbs said firmly. “Kelly was a beautiful little girl, and I will always love her. That doesn’t mean I can’t let Tali into my heart, too.” Gibbs said it, but his entire posture screamed his discomfort. Tony’s heart ached at the pain Gibbs carried. If someone killed Tali, Tony wasn’t sure he could recover. Now Tony better understood why part of Gibbs had died with his family.

“I don’t want you hurt,” Tony said softly.

Gibbs looked over quickly, as though surprised. “I’m fine.”

“If I lost Tali, I wouldn’t be.”

Gibbs drew a deep breath. “You would. You would know that you still had a job to do in the world, and you would make yourself go on.”

Tony didn’t say it, but he thought that Gibbs hadn’t gone on as much as some part of him had frozen in time so he would always live in the moment when he lost his girls. His work life went on. His sex life went on, because Tony had seen the string of redheads the boss had fallen for, but some essential part of Gibbs was still back there in time.

Gibbs gave Tony a sad smile. “I’m fine. Kelly would have loved playing with Tali. She loved kids who were littler than her. She would play mother and bring them toys and read to them.” Gibbs’ eyes glazed over. The pain was so deep that Tony was afraid to say anything. It was like Gibbs was raw and bleeding and the wrong word could kill him, so Tony stayed silent. “Kelly wouldn’t forgive me if I let that little girl keep living in a bomb shelter.” A grimace crossed Gibbs’ face and he turned toward the window.

The pain was a cat who had curled up between them to sleep in the heat of Gibbs’ emotions, so Tony gave the man some space. Tony pulled his phone out and started Googling law enforcement techniques that used Talent. Sure, right now he couldn’t even get his guide to show up, but Tony could feel that deep well of power right at his fingertips, so if there was a chance to access it and do some good, that meant Tony needed information.


	15. Chapter 15

The flight was halfway over the ocean and most of the passengers had settled into some activity, but beside Jethro, Tony kept right on fidgeting. Jethro thought he would settle after a time, but if anything, the behaviors were getting worse. It definitely reminded Jethro of the young Tony DiNozzo who had first shown up at NCIS. The contrast between this Tony and the tired, worn man he had become was stark. Ziva had a lot to answer for, even if she hadn’t been the one to damage Tony’s guide.

Finally Gibbs couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s bothering you?”

“What? Nothing.” Tony had a wide-eyed look of panic. For someone who was as good as Tony was at undercover, he sucked at lying.

Jethro raised an eyebrow. Sure enough, Tony folded. “I don't know how to be a father,” he said in a horrified whisper.

Christ that brought back memories. “None of us know,” Jethro reassured him. “We figure it out.”

“Easy for you to say,” Tony popped off with. Immediately he turned white and his face twisted with horror. “Shit. Boss, I didn't mean it.”

Jethro rode through that old pain. He’d expected the words to gut him, but they were nothing more than a rusted knife twisting his guts. For him, that was an improvement. But right now, Jethro could see that Tony needed a little support, and Jethro was man enough to face his own pain. Sometimes. Other times he hid in a bottle of bourbon, but this wasn’t the time for that. Jethro said quietly, “I relied on Shannon to know what she was doing, but Kelly was about eighteen months when she told me she'd been faking it the whole time. We all feel insecure.” Jethro remembered an old story Shannon had told him, one he hadn’t thought of in twenty years. “One book told Shannon to powder Kelly's rear end and another told her to use lotion. So she did both. The two mixed and when they dried, it turned out Shannon had glued Kelly's diaper to her backside.” Jethro smiled even as the pain made his eyes scratchy with tears he refused to shed.

“Seriously?” Tony’s voice had such hope. He needed to know he wasn’t the first or the last parent to panic at the thought of raising a child.

Jethro nodded. “I couldn't figure out whether to reassure Shannon or laugh. Since I valued my hide, I didn't laugh.”

Tony gave a little breathy laugh. “That sounds like something I would do.”

“All parents screw up. You'll get through it. Tali will get through it.” Jethro believed that. The way Tony looked at his daughter made it clear that he would keep trying until he got it right.

“Will I?” Tony asked. “Ziva is going to be right there to point out every mistake. I grew up in the middle of a home with parents who hated each other. I don't want that for Tali.”

“So don't make that mistake.” Seemed like a simple solution to Jethro, although he did know it wasn’t going to be that easy. Ziva did complicate issues.

“How can I avoid it when she looks at me like she's waiting for me to attack her, and I'm so angry with her that I can't look at her. I can't live under the same roof.”

Jethro took a deep breath. Honestly, it was probably for the best that Tony wasn’t living with him. Now that Jethro’s old desires were back, he needed to keep a little distance between them. “That's fine. We can set up a bedroom for you so you can stay when you want and you can spend most of your time at the apartment.”

Tony closed his eyes. “You keep being reasonable,” he said in a tone that was clearly a complaint. Jethro stared at Tony. “You’re not supposed to be calm. You’re supposed to be the one who refused to bend and makes the rest of the world deal with it.”

Ah. Tony never had liked change, and Jethro had played the bastard for a long time. “It’s different with kids.”

“Yeah?”

Jethro snorted. Tony would learn soon enough. Tali was about to become the center of his life, and any thought Tony might entertain about running his own affairs would quickly end. A bolt of guilt hit Jethro just under the ribs. Kelly had cried the last time Jethro had gotten orders to ship out. He’d promised her that it would be his last deployment, and then he’d walked out of her life. Again. Maybe if he had put his family before his love for his country, they would still be alive. Maybe they wouldn’t. Sometimes the worst part was knowing that Jethro would never have any answers. 

“Are you going to be okay if I leave at five instead of staying at the office half the night?” Tony asked. His incredulity was front and center.

Jethro pulled his thoughts back to the present. Would he? No. But telling Tony that would be sidestepping the real issue. As much as Jethro wanted to ignore reality and his own less charitable attributes, he needed to man up with Tony before doing any more damage to their friendship.

“Truth is, I’m likely to be more of a bastard,” Jethro confessed.

Tony’s expression was painful to see.

“Now that your guide is healthy again, you’re different,” Jethro explained. He wasn’t sure how to say what he needed to without damaging their partnership. As much as Jethro liked Tony, he respected him more.

“And you’re more likely to be a bastard?” Tony prompted Jethro when Jethro paused too long.

Slowly, Jethro nodded. “When your guide is healthy, you have a power around you.”

Tony’s features twisted with a sort of angry resignation. “And God forbid anyone challenge you,” he snapped.

Jethro’s blood pressure went into the danger zone. “I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you made it damn clear over the years.”

“The only think I made clear was that I needed to keep distance between us. I fucked up with Jenny, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to do it again. Rule twelve exists for a reason,” Jethro said firmly.

“What?” All the anger had vanished, and Tony just looked stunned. Jethro chose to ignore the obvious and pretend that Tony was asking about his relationship with Jenny.

“If I’d been in the field with any other agent, I would have checked to make sure the target was eliminated. But I was sleeping with Jenny and she gave me the whole song and dance about trusting her. I didn’t follow my gut because my dick got in the way. That won’t ever happen again.” Jethro stared at the back of the seat in front of him and hoped that shock held Tony at bay for a while. And for a few short minutes, it worked. 

Then Tony asked in a small voice, “Boss?”

Well, fuck. DiNozzo never could let sleeping dogs lie.

“If you’re screwing with my head…” Tony let his words trail off.

“I’m not screwing with anything. We work on a team, and all we do is work,” Jethro said firmly. He ignored the hard knot of longing that came from long years of trust and shared stories and support. 

When Jethro had lost his memories, Tony had held Jethro’s world together until he came back, and Jethro knew the price he had paid for that. When Tony’s father had appeared, questioning Tony’s value, Jethro had told Anthony senior that Tony was the best agent he had ever worked with. They’d saved each other’s lives and shared cowboy steaks so often that Jethro couldn’t even keep track of it. The ghosts of Tony cooking in the kitchen or sitting on the basement stairs competed with the ghost of Shannon. No, they didn’t compete. They lived together in Jethro’s memories, each having a unique spot. And sometimes he could even imagine Shannon’s ghost smiling at Tony, telling him to kick Jethro’s ass because she was too far away to get the job done.

And sometimes Tony did exactly that. Tony and Shannon were the only people who had ever told Jethro off in his own home and still been welcome back the next day.

“Boss, I’ve had a thing for you since the day you set me up in Baltimore—making me tackle you and arrest you so you would have a credible cover story.”

Jethro knew that too. It had been the main reason Tony had overacted when Kate had made jabs about Tony’s heterosexuality. And because Jethro had been the center of that crush, Jethro had feared getting involved in their spat and drawing Kate’s attention to his own relationship with Tony.

When Jethro didn’t say anything, Tony kept talking. “Working without backup or a partner was pretty ballsy, boss. And then aggravating the local cops? You could have gotten yourself shot.”

“I knew your reputation as a cop. I knew you wouldn’t fire at a fleeing suspect.” At least based on DiNozzo’s record, Jethro gut had told him Tony wouldn’t. It turned out he’d been right.

“When I found out you were a fed, I was equal parts interested and angry. When you called me to DC, I was actually hoping it was a social call. Instead you offered me a job.”

“I remember.”

“Then… why? It’s been ten years.” Tony threw his hands up.

“Rule twelve,” Jethro said firmly. He knew the damage a relationship could do to a team. He’d seen Ziva and Tony do their push-pull dance long enough to have his dislike of in-team romance confirmed, even if at the time he’d thought they were suffering from unrequited love.

“So you tell me you care about me and then quote your rules? That’s sadistic, even for you,” Tony said with some real anger behind the words.

Jethro hadn’t meant it that way, but his relationship with Tony had grown so tangled that maybe Tony couldn’t read him anymore. Maybe it was time to be direct. “You were a team lead years ago, and then you seemed to lose more and more of some part of yourself, so I kept you on my team even when Leon wanted to transfer you out. I didn’t trust you to take care of yourself. If you’re really back to full strength and interested, you know the way around rule twelve,” Jethro said, and he had to stomp down on the selfish part of himself that didn’t want to give up Tony as a partner. 

If Tony took Jethro’s advice and left the team, freeing both of them to explore whatever attraction had survived years of Jethro’s frustration and Tony’s spiritual damage, then Jethro was losing his work partner. He wouldn’t be able to count on Tony always having his six. Tim could do the job, but Jethro wasn’t as fast as he used to be, and he’d grown to rely on having Tony to pick up the slack. He and Tony could read each other in the field so Jethro didn’t have to give orders. 

Tony was silent for longer this time, and Jethro took out a wood working magazine and started mentally planning his next project. Jethro needed something to distract him, especially now that Tony had recovered whatever part of himself that had been dying with his wolf. Even now, just considering pursuing a relationship was enough to make Jethro’s pants a little too tight. Jethro definitely needed the distraction of a complex project. As hard as it was for Jethro to give up control, he had to give Tony the space to decide what he wanted his life to look like.


	16. Chapter 16

Tony still hadn’t wrapped his head around all the changes in his life as he walked into the arrival area of the airport. Since Ziva had chosen a seat in business class, she had already debarked, and she was probably getting her luggage. Tony had no idea how much she’d brought or if she was planning on trying to take Tali back to Israel as soon as she could convince Gibbs to back her. That would be a Ziva thing to do.

And now that Gibbs had made his confession about being attracted, Tony had no idea how that changed the dynamics. A year ago, Tony would have bet money that Gibbs would side with Ziva. But now Gibbs claimed to want a relationship with Tony, but he also admitted that wanting a relationship was likely to make him more of a bastard.

Some days Tony suspected that Gibbs needed therapy… and to grow the fuck up. People weren’t supposed to be bigger bastards when they liked someone, at least not after they got out of fifth grade and left the pigtail pulling stage.

When a woman in a hijab started walking deliberately toward him, Tony’s instincts screamed at him. There was something dangerous about her, even though she looked like a stiff wind might knock her over. She stopped several feet away and offered a smile.

“Shaman DiNozzo?” she asked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony could see Gibbs taking up position to the side, but close enough to intervene. Tony wasn’t the only one who had pegged her as a danger. Tony didn’t even pretend to have good manners. “Who are you?”

She bowed her head. “I am Salma al-Ghamdi. Agents Oberton and Boucher wished to meet you, but a case required they go out of town, so I offered to bring you the paperwork on what has been done in your absence. Since you were out of communication, I took actions to protect your legal position.”

“You what?” Tony was definitely not processing well.

Gibbs closed the distance between them in three strides. “What actions?” he practically growled.

She wasn’t intimidated, which seemed a little unusual. She pulled some papers out of a messenger bag slung over her shoulder. “At the urging of Agent Oberton, I collected affidavits from those shaman who interacted with you during your time in Baltimore and Peoria.” She handed him a file folder. “All report that they noted your Talent was muted or missing. Several assumed you had a religious conversion that caused you to reject your Talent, so this supports your position that you have not had access to your Talent. I have forwarded these affidavits to NCIS.”

Tony opened the file and glanced through the legal documents. He would have to read them, but it did seem like these were in support of him. When al-Ghamdi reached into her bag again, Tony refocused on her.

“Since I was unable to reach you, I employed Karla Whitham from Rice, Begovic, and Whitham. She specializes in employment issues, and she asks that you contact her as soon as possible. She has attended meetings with your Director Vance and has a number of concerns about how the agency has discriminated against you. She would like guidance regarding how aggressive a stance to take with the agency.” Al-Ghamdi handed over another file.

Tony really was starting to feel like he was in an episode of Candid Camera. He expected someone to jump out and yell “surprise.” Life wasn’t giving him one second to catch up before hitting him with more.

“Who the hell are you to get involved?” Gibbs demanded. Thank God Gibbs was here because Tony did not feel up to demanding answers for himself.

“I apologize for not speaking to you before getting involved,” she told Gibbs with a demure tilt of her head. She was either very subservient or manipulative as hell. The way Gibbs narrowed his eyes made it pretty clear he’d settled on the second. “However, I did not wish for others to take advantage of your absence. I felt Ms. Whitham would defend your position more effectively than I could.”

Tony finally found his voice. “Who exactly are you and why would you get involved?”

She gave him a small smile. “I am the Egyptian emissary from the Talent community.”

“Like from the Egyptian council?” Tony asked, slightly horrified. That would make her a representative of one of the most powerful magical groups in the world. It never worked out for Tony when powerful people noticed him. He definitely preferred to fly under everyone’s radar, but this meant that he had failed spectacularly at that goal. 

“In a way,” she agreed vaguely. “We have long advocated for keeping the Talent community separate from the mundane world, but Agents Oberton and Boucher have convinced us to study the possibility of integrating the two worlds. So I am here to learn from them and support them in any shamanic endeavors.” She held out a card for Tony. “Agent Oberton is particularly concerned that you have been treated poorly and wishes for you to have all the possible support of the Djedi center, so if you need anything, please feel free to contact me.” 

After Tony took the card, she stepped back. When Tony glanced at the card, he recognized the phone number as using the FBI office prefix. That didn’t seem like coincidence, particularly if she was working with Boucher and Oberton. “I appreciate the offer,” he said although he had no intention of ever calling her. He planned to spend the next year trying to avoid anyone with as much power as she had. Hell, he’d spend the next decade working at that task.

“Tony?” Ziva called across the crowded room. She had Tali on her hip, a long scarf securing her in place, and she was pulling the largest trunk Tony had ever seen outside of the movies. It was one of those wardrobe trunks women in the forties always seemed to haul around train stations.

“Ziva.” Tony’s heart sank when he saw the fury on her face. Sure enough, she focused right in on Salma al-Ghamdi.

“So this is your new woman,” Ziva spit out. “And did she tell you that she too is a shaman?” Ziva’s body language was all angry angles and sharp elbows.

“I sort of assumed the shaman part,” Tony said. “But she’s here delivering some paperwork.” Tony reined in his temper. Tali watched with big eyes, and Tony didn’t need to make the situation more tense.

“Actually,” al-Ghamdi said, “I am an adept, but my training is quite extensive, so some may read the Talent that surrounds me as being closer to a shaman, so the mistake is understandable.”

Tony glanced down to see if she had the characteristic veining on her hands, but they were covered with gloves that were nearly hidden in her long sleeves. He had assumed her modest clothing had to do with her religion, but perhaps she had ulterior motives.

She gave Ziva a cold smile. “I am Adept Salma al-Ghamdi, North American representative of the Egyptian Authority. I assume you are Shaman Ziva David. Shalom, Shaman David. Welcome back to DC.” The words were delivered with such sweetness that Tony almost could have mistaken them for being friendly. However, there was an edge there that he couldn’t quite define, and Ziva lost nearly all the color out of her face.

“We should get to Gibbs’ place,” Tony said. Gibbs was eyeing al-Ghamdi even more critically now, probably because Ziva was having such a strong reaction. Ziva wrapped her arm around Tali protectively before turning a horrified look toward Tony. In that second, he could see such raw fear. Everyone she’d ever loved had ultimately betrayed her or used her. She expected al-Ghamdi was here to help Tony take her child.

Tony’s heart broke a little. He didn’t love Ziva, not anymore. Not after all the pain she had caused. But he had loved her once—even if it had been a fragile love devoid of any depth. And even more importantly, she was the mother of his daughter, and Tali would suffer if she lost her mother. 

“Ziva is moving back with our daughter,” Tony told al-Ghamdi. “Would Ms. Whitham be able to draw up a joint custody arrangement with full decision making abilities for both of us or is that too far outside her area of expertise.”

Weirdly, al-Ghamdi glanced over toward Gibbs. Then again, Gibbs was hovering and putting out some weirdly possessive vibes, so she was probably trying to decide who was sleeping with whom. “I don’t believe Ms. Whitham would feel confident with family law, but I will find an attorney would can complete that paperwork,” al-Ghamdi finally offered. “Shall I send the paperwork to Agent Gibbs’ house or would you prefer to consult with the attorney about the final details of custody before he or she draws up the agreement?”

“I don’t need to consult,” Tony said. “Standard full shared custody sounds fine. Ziva, do you want to talk to the lawyer beforehand?” Tony turned toward her, and the flash of confusion was heartbreaking. However, Ziva quickly plastered that over with a false confidence.

“A shared custody would be acceptable.” She raised her chin, and the defenses were all back in place. Tali watched her mother curiously.

“If that’s settled, I want to get home before we have to deal with Vance,” Gibbs said. He took charge by simply walking away, leaving everyone else to scramble after him. Since Tony had only taken a small go bag, he took the handle of Ziva’s trunk and started after Gibbs. Ziva watched him with suspicion, but only time would teach her that she could, in fact, still trust Tony.

Tony might be angry with Ziva and he might not trust her, but he loved his daughter. Besides, fighting with Ziva had never ended well for him. He preferred a truce, just as long as they both kept their relationship professional. Considering that Tony’s love life was a fucking disaster with one lover betraying him and one boss suggesting he’d rather be a lover, Tony needed professional.


	17. Chapter 17

Jethro pulled up in front of the café and the shadow of a hawk slid across the truck’s hood. Big bugger. Jethro had seen several giant hawks lately, which wasn’t surprising in rural Israel, but a little more unusual in DC. “You ready?” he asked Tony. Already Jethro regretted talking to Tony about his own attraction. Tony was carrying enough, and Jethro was a big boy. He could damn well keep his lust under control without acting like a bastard around Tony. And now Tony had a lawyer to deal with.

Jethro didn’t like it. And he didn’t like al-Ghamdi. As soon as they got to the yard, he was going to have Abby do a little digging on the woman.

Jethro recognized the lawyer, Ms. Whitham, the second they walked into the cafe. The expensive suit had no place in the diner. If he had his way, they would walk out again, but Jethro was trying to tone down his attitude. Tony needed to make his own decisions, especially when his Talent could cause serious problems with his credibility as an agent. Jethro didn't even disagree with getting a lawyer, although he would prefer to hire one himself because he definitely didn't trust al-Ghamdi. She was too meek, especially when Jethro's gut told him that she had a lot more power than she revealed.

The lawyer stood and walked toward them, hand outstretched. "Agent DiNozzo, nice to meet you." She gave Tony a smile before turning a colder expression toward Jethro. "Before we begin, I should advise you that the presence of a third party negates our confidentiality. I would recommend that we move this meeting to my vehicle."

Jethro appreciated her directness, but he still hated her.

"Gibbs is fine. He can hear whatever you have to say," Tony said. Jethro's stomach unclenched a little. He wouldn't have liked it if Tony had left with the woman, although he would have accepted the decision.

Ms. Whitham wasn't ready to give in, though. "I respect your loyalty, but since he is a supervisor--"

"He's fine. Anything you say, I'm going to repeat to him later, and since I trust his motives more than yours, he can stay." Tony's inner strength made an appearance. This was the man Jethro remembered from Baltimore. Now that Jethro saw all the years of change erased in one day, he had to wonder how he could have ever dismissed the changes in DiNozzo as simple aging.

"You're the client." Whitham's tone made it clear that she considered Tony an idiot. However she returned to the booth in the back of the cafe where they had at least some privacy. She sat on one side and when Tony took his seat across from her, he scooted in to make room for Jethro. Jethro was more than happy to follow and present a unified front.

"Am I?" Tony asked. His voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable power there. "Am I your real client?"

"Yes. You are. It's true the council hired me, Adept al-Ghamdi specifically. However, I was hired to protect your interests in your absence. No one wanted NCIS making precipitous decisions."

Tony grinned, and the danger vanished under a layer of goofy camouflage. He was playing with her. "Yeah, I don't get that part. Why do you care?"

"Are you asking me personally or professionally?"

"Both."

Whitham studied Tony, and Jethro got the impression that she had finally recognized Tony's power. Most people dismissed him, so Jethro gave her some credit for showing some caution around DiNozzo. 

Finally she said, "Personally I hate it when even inept people get screwed out of their rights by overzealous and dictatorial employers, but when good men get the shaft, I tend to develop deep resentments. Professionally, I was paid to protect your interests so that your case does not set a precedent that would harm the entire shamanic community. Accidental shamans are unusual, but they happen often enough that they aren't a surprise, especially with the growing opioid addiction in this country. Everyone with Talent who is young enough to be open to both living and dead magics is one bad trip away from shamanism if they overdose. That means that as more and more accidental shamans come to light, the council is going to have to get more involved in their legal rights." The answer surprised Jethro. He hadn't considered the larger implications, but now that she laid them out, it made sense that the Talent council would want to get involved.

"So it's not Tony you care about," Jethro summarized.

"Originally, no," she admitted easily before she focused her attention on Tony again. "However, after sitting through a number of meetings, I am trying to decide if you're a saint or an idiot for putting up with the current administration of the NCIS office. And no offense, Agent Gibbs, but you are a big part of my problem with how Agent DiNozzo has been treated."

Tony opened his mouth, probably to defend Jethro.

Jethro interrupted. "Don't. She's right."

"Boss." Tony wanted to argue the point, but Jethro needed an outside point of view. He was too close to this problem, and while he still didn't trust Whitham, he wanted an outside view of the problem.

"Why don't you come right out and tell me what you mean?" he challenged her.

Her smile was dangerous. "Are you sure? Because I have some fairly specific problems with your behavior, and if I can talk Agent DiNozzo into it, we'll be filing a complaint against you and NCIS."

Tony said fiercely, "No, we won't."

She gave DiNozzo a weary look. "At least let me present the case."

Jethro interrupted again before Tony could present a misguided defense. "Let's hear it."

"Fine. Your personnel reviews are consistently lower than any other supervisor in the entire building."

Jethro was sick of everyone criticizing his managing style. "I've always been hard on my people." Jethro refused to apologize for that.

"If that was the end of it, you might have a defense, except that office has no agent in charge, so no one else is filing reviews for your people," Whitham said. "However, every review you file for McGee has a supplemental from Director Vance praising his work on specific cases in which McGee used technology in innovative ways. And now you have a new agent, and your reviews for Agent Bishop are glowing. So that means my client and only my client is left with artificially low ratings."

Jethro hadn't known Vance was doing that. Before he could say anything, Tony jumped in.

"I know I'm a valuable part of the team."

"Yes, part of the team, only you are never promoted off that damn team. You were a team lead seven years ago, and yet when Agent Gibbs returned, you were demoted. Vance promoted you to Agent Afloat, and yet the first time Gibbs wanted you back, he demoted you again. And I don't even want to start on your working hours under Director Shepard. When Director Vance brought the Benoit case up, I nearly passed out. That is a lawyer's wet dream. You were overworked, the agency failed to pay for overtime, you were denied backup and the whole mission was unsanctioned. That was clear from the reports the team reviewed. And Director Vance's concern is that the case suggests you used shamanic energy to keep functioning. I'm more concerned about the multiple federal employment laws NCIS violated."

Shit. Vance was looking at whether to hang DiNozzo out to dry. Jethro knew where a lot of bodies were buried, and if he had to choose between protecting Tony's position, and protecting Vance's, there wasn't any question. Hopefully Whitham had already headed off the worst danger. The only thing that scared Leon more than a lawsuit was an actual lawyer. DiNozzo having one sit in the meeting for him would have made an impression.

"I didn't use shamanic energy," Tony said firmly.

Whitham rolled her eyes. "Clearly whatever myopathy Director Vance suffers from, it's contagious. Of course you didn't. I have affidavits from a dozen different shamans, all of whom confirm that your Talent aura was null. You had been stripped of all energy. Several shamans have expressed great guilt that they never spoke to you about it, but they wanted to respect your privacy. I realize I've pushed in, but I am your advocate. So, my question is whether we want to handle this situation with kid gloves or an iron fist. My choice would be the latter. I have fantasies about ripping certain people new assholes." She leveled her glare at Gibbs.

Tony gave a lopsided grin. "What is it with shamans and scary women?" It was classic redirection, and Jethro figured Tony was uncomfortable even considering pursing any path that would put Jethro in a bad light. As much as Jethro appreciated the loyalty, he was a Marine. When Whitham laid out all the facts, Jethro could see that it was time for him to take one for the team.

Whitham gave Tony a genuine smile. "Thank you. I consider that a compliment, but I'm not a shaman. I just work for them."

"Why did al-Ghamdi pick you?" Tony asked.

"Because she thought a minority would be underestimated by the agency and I would have an opportunity to gather a lot more evidence than a male colleague. Sitting in those meetings, the legal department has allowed me to hear enough to put the whole agency in serious trouble, so either I'm only seeing the tip of the iceberg and NCIS should be burned to the ground or your whole agency is so dismissive of women that the strategy worked."

Tony huffed. "It's not that bad."

Jethro disagreed. "Yes it is." Even though Ziva had been Mossad, plenty of agents had underestimated her, and Jenny had to fight for every ounce of respect. Jethro wondered if she would have been a better director if so many agents hadn't constantly questioned and undermined her. But that was water under the bridge. Whatever crap Jenny had taken, she had made the choice to break the rules and screw up a dozen different operations.

Whitham ignored the debate and asked Tony directly, "So, am I filing for the world's greatest severance package complete with a personal apology from SecNav or would you rather stay with the agency with a legal mandate for changes in personnel reviews?"

Tony's discomfort was obvious. "That might be going too far."

"No. It isn't. Vance should have promoted you already," Jethro said.

His support clearly aggravated Whitham. "Oh, now you're saying that. You are the one who filed a stack of horrendous reviews, which you then made even worse by filing flattering ones for Bishop."

When Whitham laid it out, Jethro felt a twinge of guilt. "Yep. I know. You tell me how to undo that and I will."

"You can't unless you're willing to write an addendum admitting that you were an ass."

Here is where the rubber met the road. That was the last thing Jethro wanted to do, but this was his mess and he needed to fix it. "Would it work to say that I had been using negative reviews to motivate improved behavior when I believed an agent had more potential and that my review of Bishop changed because I decided that I was driving away too many good people?"

Tony gave Jethro an incredulous look, but Whitham seemed more open. She nodded slowly. "You have gone through more temporary agents than every other senior agent on that floor combined. Would this come with a more accurate review of DiNozzo?"

"Boss, you don't have to," Tony rushed to say.

"I don’t, but you deserve it."

"It's going to reflect badly on you as a team lead,” Tony argued. He was still trying to protect Jethro, even after all the shit that had landed on his head.

"I can handle that,” Jethro assured him. “Besides, it's my mistake. Jenny told me to knock it off with the low reviews, but I was so busy refusing to listen to her that I didn't take good advice. I'll write a more accurate review.” Jethro turned his attention to the lawyer. “It will reflect the fact that Tony is the only agent I've ever completely trusted both at my six and to handle my team."

Whitham's smile came slowly, but it spread to her whole face, making the corners of her eyes crinkle up. "I might not hate you."

"I could say the same," Jethro said. He turned to Tony. "So, what do you want? I’ll back you, but I need to know where you want to end up after all this is over." Jethro couldn’t help but remember the ultimatum he had given Tony. 

No one could change the fact that Tony was going to have to sit through a lot of case reviews with JAG, but only Tony could make the big decision of what he wanted to do afterward. Part of Jethro wanted to keep his partner. Besides, if Tony were off the team, Jethro wouldn't have an excuse to avoid having a relationship with the man. Shannon had been Jethro's only successful relationship, and in the end, they had actually lived together for less than six months. Deployments had ensured that their marriage had been filled with more longing phone calls than arguments over whose turn it was to pick up groceries. Jethro wasn't sure he could do a relationship, and if he ruined this with Tony, the friendship would vanish. 

But if Jethro held Tony back and kept him as a partner, the friendship might end anyway. No matter what happened, he could see the danger. And this time, Jethro wasn’t in control of his own destiny; this time Tony had to choose.


	18. Chapter 18

The lawyer had pleaded with Tony to discuss the onset of his shamanic powers before coming to NCIS, but Tony was only having this conversation once. So Tony was leading a merry little parade into Vance's conference room. Gibbs and Whitham jockeyed for position right behind him, but Tony ignored them both. His ability to deal with life was quickly dwindling, and Tony still hadn't confronted the one person he knew was responsible for his damaged Talent--his father.

Cynthia had told Tony that Director Vance was waiting in the largest conference room, but when Tony opened the door and saw the crowd arranged around the large table, he nearly turned and bolted. He might have only Gibbs and Whitham were blocking his retreat.

"Agent DiNozzo," Director Vance said as he stood. Next to him was Robertson from legal and Hernandez from JAG. Tony didn't recognize the woman with graying hair or the weasel-faced man. He did recognize FBI Agent Boucher, who was busy on his phone. And then there were the obvious assistants, either sitting next to or behind their various bosses. Everyone else seemed perfectly comfortable staring at Tony.

Tony was staring back when Ms. Whitham breezed past Tony and took command of the room. "Director Vance, Captain Hernandez, Mr. Nazir, Agent Travers, Mrs. White. And Agent Boucher. How nice of you to join us. Are you here to represent the FBI or the Talent Council?"

Tony decided he loved his lawyer a little because she distracted everyone, allowing him to slip into the room and quickly take a seat.

Boucher looked up from his phone. "If the council has to act, I want all the information."

Ms. Whitham seemed to ignore his answer, sitting in the seat closest to Director Vance. "Director, my client is here against my advice. Given NCIS's history of discriminatory actions that directly contradict agency policy, I suggested he file a formal complaint and handle any issues through my office. He is here because he would prefer to protect NCIS's position."

"We can't endanger any cases," Tony said firmly. Whitham was making it sound like Tony was a cross between a martyr and a saint.

"I appreciate that,” Captain Hernandez from JAG said. “Mr. Nazir has handled the FBI cases called into question after Agent Oberton's Talent appeared recently, and I believe we can minimize any legal exposure as long as we can show that you didn't have access to your Talent during your time at NCIS."

"Which I believe is already established by the affidavits submitted by Ms. al-Ghamdi." Ms. Whitham sounded uniquely unamused, and from the flash of surprise that crossed Vance's face, Tony got the impression that she had been much less confrontation in previous meetings. He really hoped that Vance didn't blame Tony for the change in her tone.

Gibbs took the seat next to Tony and said, "Let's cut the bullshit. DiNozzo was on my team for his entire NCIS career. He was targeted by a serial killer, and he had to use his wits and training to get out of the situation. If he had magic, he would have used it."

Tony thought about that--about the two times he'd been alone with serial killers. If he'd had magic, he definitely would have used it.

"You have to admit DiNozzo has survived some implausible situations," Vance said.

"Because I'm damn good and because Gibbs has taught me to be even better," Tony said. "I never knew I was a shaman."

Captain Hernandez shot Vance an unhappy look. "I would like to focus on the critical points that Mr. Nazir identified. Agent DiNozzo, can you identify the near-death experience that would have triggered your shamanism?"

Tony took a deep breath. This was personal information he didn't want to share, so he had to give JAG what they needed without exposing all his secrets. "When I was twelve, I was playing in the woods and I got lost. I was hospitalized for exposure, and I told the hospital that I was saved by a wolf that sat with me."

"And they didn't call the Djedi center?" Boucher asked, his voice sharp enough that Tony got the feeling that he wanted to gut someone for a mistake like that. If Boucher and Gibbs ever went head to head, Tony would leave the state to avoid the fallout. They both were terrifying.

"This was thirty years ago," Tony pointed out. "There was a lot more prejudice against Talent, and my father and the doctor agreed that I had suffered hallucinations. The doctor was under the impression that twelve was too young for shamanism."

"That does seem young," Captain Hernandez said. "Agent Boucher, you're our expert on shamanism, is that possible?"

Boucher nodded slowly. "Guides don't attach themselves to children, but if Tony was a particularly mature twelve year old, his guide might have seen Tony as a young man. In societies where twelve year olds have rites of adulthood, guides do choose shamans that young.”

“DiNozzo’s father left him alone in a hotel to fend for himself at twelve,” Gibbs said. Tony really didn’t need that piece of information getting around, but Boucher slowly nodded.

“That makes it likely that the guide recognized that Tony was taking on adult responsibilities. Someone should have called the Djedi center and asked for a consult.”

“Water under the bridge,” Tony said and he hoped Boucher dropped it. The shamanic council should have censored the hospital thirty years earlier, but no one responsible for that mistake would still be there. The current hospital staff couldn’t be blamed. And while Tony didn’t intend to get into it with Boucher, Tony’s father also took most of the blame. He had charmed and threatened the staff, and looking back, Tony suspected his father had used more than a little magic to get them to go along.

Boucher narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything as Captain Hernandez took the lead again. He had a legal pad with a list he was clearly working down.

“In the case of Agent Oberton, his Talent was so faint that he never realized he possessed any. Why didn’t you realize you had Talent?” Hernandez leaned forward, and Tony had the sudden sense of anxiety and anticipation. Hernandez wanted Tony to give a good answer. No, he was desperate for it. This was more than Tony’s investigative instinct—this was an almost palpable sense of the other man’s emotions.

“My guide was damaged,” Tony said calmly, even though the thought of that proud creature suffering in pain for so many years made him near homicidal. “That’s why the shamans I interacted with couldn’t feel any magic. My guide had essentially bled out and was barely hanging onto life.”

“Is your guide still damaged?” Hernandez asked.

“He’s fine now,” Tony said. He assumed that was true because he could sense his wolf stalking in the shadows, even if Tony couldn’t get the wolf to respond to his call.

Hernandez frowned. “What changed, and when did it changed?”

Boucher interrupted. “The change took place three days ago when I first visited. Anything else is shamanic business.”

Hernandez blinked at Boucher, clearly shocked. However, Boucher’s expression made it clear he wasn’t going to budge. The two men stared at each other until Whitham interrupted.

“Talent is a proprietary skill. You can’t ask for shamanic secrets or an incantation user’s methods any more than you can require a company to reveal an industry secret. If you want to know the ingredients in the secret sauce, you have to figure it out yourself,” Whitham said. “And since Boucher is on the council, he has a good legal claim that any of his specific skills are unique to him and therefore protected from government inquiry,” she said sweetly. She was vicious when sweet. “Next question.”

Hernandez cleared his throat before focusing on Tony again. “Do you know how your guide was damaged?”

“I’m still investigating,” Tony said.

Hernandez continued on that line of questioning. “And who—”

He didn’t get any farther before Whitham cut him off. “Irrelevant to the problem at hand, which is protecting NCIS convictions. When Agent DiNozzo is finished with his investigation, the results will go to Shaman Boucher and the council since they have jurisdiction over any assaults that are limited to the shamanic plane and don’t result in any physical harm.”

Gibbs snorted, and every muscle in Tony’s body tensed. He waited for Gibbs to jump in and start making demands, but after that non-verbal commentary on the lack of harm, he fell silent again.

Vance was watching with a concerned expression, as if he couldn’t figure out what had changed. To tell the truth, Tony hadn’t figured it out, either. Gibbs revealed his interesting in having a relationship and then backed off. Either he was trying to give Tony space or he was regretting his confession. Tony had no idea how he was supposed to even react. If Gibbs went back to his normal bullying, blustering ways, at least Tony would know how to handle it. This new Gibbs who let Tony take lead was, quite frankly, terrifying.

Tony knew he’d played doormat to Gibbs’ bully routine. Their dynamic had changed so much since Kate had died, and now Tony wondered if Gibbs hadn’t turned more and more aggressive in part because Tony was floundering. It would explain a lot, even if it didn’t excuse anything. And frankly Tony didn’t have time to sort his feelings, so he focused on Vance.

“How does NCIS plan to handle having an active shaman on the payroll?” Tony asked the question and then braced himself for an unpleasant answer.

Vance frowned for a fraction of a second before shrugging. “I see no reason to change anything. Are you going to use your Talent?”

“As soon as I can train, yes,” Tony said. Before he could say more, Ms. Whitham jumped in again. Back at the café, Tony had shared his vision of a perfect world, but he was shocked when she went straight for his wish list.

“And when he is trained, it’s inappropriate to have someone with a unique skill and this many years of experience in a subordinate position. What are you prepared to offer in terms of promotions?” Whitham asked.

Vance gave Tony a surprised look, but Tony kept his mouth shut. Whitham knew her job, and he was letting her take the lead because if he opened his mouth he was going to make a joke and try and hide behind humor to defuse the rising tension in the room.

“If he wants a promotion, there’s always agent afloat,” Vance said. That was a threat, and Tony knew it. Gibbs clenched his fists and looked ready to take Vance’s head off. Even Boucher shifted as though not sure whether the silent threat of violence was metaphorical or physical.

“And if you can’t find an investigative position appropriate to his experience, there are other agencies,” Whitham said. Tony wasn’t sure he was willing to pull the trigger on that threat, but he might be. He couldn’t keep living in Gibbs’ shadow, not when Tony felt so different. If he and Gibbs were partners, he’d be fine, but Tony needed the people who worked with him to acknowledge his skills, and he felt like that wasn’t happening. He loved Abby, but she saw him as some sort of appendage to Gibbs, and Tim liked Tony without every truly respecting him—at least that’s how Tony felt sometimes. Other times he thought he was probably being a drama queen.

Boucher spoke up. “There are so many law enforcement agencies who need Talent that the council is considering hiring some shamans and magic users who could liaison with any law enforcement agencies who require help. The CIA, local police forces, ATF, and a number of smaller agencies have all said they would hire consultants when their cases involved Talent. If Agent DiNozzo is interested in heading up that unit, I would offer him the job today.”

Vance turned ashen gray. Oh yeah, he was seriously hating Boucher. Tony suspected the offer was smoke and mirrors—all intended to force Vance’s hand—but Tony appreciated it anyway.

“If he’s interested in an investigative position, there is a position coming open in cold cases, a two-man unit losing the head investigator.”

Whitham stared at Vance, and Tony narrowed his eyes. Cold cases were interesting sometimes, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to work them full time.

After a few seconds, Vance said, “Any other promotions would require budgeting changes, which could take two to three months to process. In the meantime, he is going to be busy working with JAG and training his new Talent, correct?”

Captain Hernandez leaned back in his chair. “Mr. Nazir has laid out such a clear path with Agent Oberton’s late-appearing Talent that I don’t think we are going to have too many problems. No doubt a few defense attorneys will find friendly judges, but if we can get the hospital records from the time Agent DiNozzo was twelve and then show that he was left magically incapacitated by an attack, we won’t have legal problems. Agent DiNozzo, realistically what are the chances that you’re going to find who attacked you?”

“Oh, I’m fairly certain we’ll get our answers quickly,” Tony said. He could see Vance wanted more, but the man leaned back and watched, clearly unsettled by the changing dynamics in the room.

“And do you need any resources in this investigation?” Hernandez was clearly fishing for information.

“No,” Tony said. 

Hernandez nodded. “Director Vance, Agent Boucher, if you could get me information on the outcome of the investigation, that would help me prepare a plan for any cases that get in front of judges. Agent Boucher, what is the council likely to do if they confirm that someone attacked Agent DiNozzo’s guide?”

Boucher looked at Tony for a second. The man had one hell of a poker face because Tony couldn’t figure out what the man was thinking. “The council could issue an advisory, warning the community that the individual abused his power. They could block the person’s Talent or drain the guide’s magic to the point where the shaman couldn’t perform much magic. In the worst case scenario, if the guide is deemed corrupted to the point that it is helping in the assault because it wants to hurt people, it can be either destroyed or reduced in power to the point that it is a shadow of itself.”

A shiver went up Tony’s back.

Boucher continued. “If Agent DiNozzo brings a case to the council, we will address the severity of the assault as well as any extenuating circumstances at that time.”

Whitham frowned. “As a lawyer, I have to say that sounds a little like you’re offering to be judge, jury and executioner. Where is the protection of the rights of the accused?”

“The accused is the guide,” Boucher said. “We don’t do anything to the human except deny them access to the guide’s power so they are effective mundane again. But if they want protection from a particular council, then they need to stay out of that council’s territory.”

Tony heard a distant howl, and he could have sworn something hit the ground hard enough that he could feel the vibrations in his bones, but no one else seemed to notice. At least he didn’t think anyone noticed until Gibbs turned his head and checked the corner of the room. The empty corner. Weird. But since Tony had reached his limits on strange, he decided to ignore it.


	19. Chapter 19

Jethro gritted his teeth. The damn room was now crowded with animals, not that two were normally a crowd, but the fucking enormous cape buffalo bull filled the room by himself. Jethro kept his gaze forward as the lawyer raked Leon over the coals. For the first time in his life, Jethro was grateful to have a lawyer along because the animals were more than a little distracting.

The golden eagle caught Jethro’s gaze, and Jethro narrowed his eyes at the creature. If the damn thing wanted something, it could make itself clear or it could just fly back to whatever spirit plane it had flown out of. Damn he hated magic.

And the worst part was that the appearance of these animals implied that Jethro had completely misunderstood some aspect of reality. He knew for a fact that he didn’t have any Talent. The Marines scanned all their recruits, and Jethro had walked past the evaluator without a twitch. He was too damn old to developing something now.

The bull slammed his hoof into the ground when Boucher mentioned the council’s ability to stop manipulative shamans and Jethro glanced toward him before forcing his gaze back to Leon. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Tony give him an odd look, but Jethro refused to admit to any of this strangeness in a room full of suits.

“Wouldn’t I have some say over what happens since it’s my guide who was attacked?” Tony asked.

Jethro turned to glare at Tony. If Tony even tried to defend his father, Jethro was going to lock the man in the car and then kick Senior’s ass himself. A week ago, Tony would have wilted under Jethro’s glare, but now the only sign he’d even noticed it was the way Tony curled his hands into fists.

“Some,” Boucher agreed. “But that’s not a conversation for this room.” Boucher scanned the room, and his expression made it very clear he found most of the people in lacking. Jethro enjoyed seeing a few pricked egos as people sat up straighter and glared at the FBI agent. “I would like to speak to Agent DiNozzo about shamanic issues. Are we done with the legal discussion?” Boucher turned to the JAG representative.

Captain Hernandez nodded. “I have what I need for now. I appreciate everyone’s cooperation.” Hernandez smiled in Tony’s direction before giving Leon a slightly colder version of the expression. Unless Jethro missed his guess, Leon was going to be a shitty mood after this meeting. 

Boucher stood and headed for the door, ignoring everyone else in the room. “Agent DiNozzo?” he said as he passed Tony.

Tony stood. “Director?” he asked, always playing the diplomat in the situation. Leon waved a hand, and Tony turned to follow Boucher. Jethro was not about to let those two talk without him being present.

“Gibbs,” Leon said.

“Later,” Jethro said as he followed Tony out of the room. In the hall, Boucher was giving Jethro a cold look, but Jethro didn’t give a rat’s ass what the man might or might not like as long as he didn’t direct his ire at Tony. While the man could defend himself, being a shaman put him in a difficult position since Boucher held one of the three seats on the shamanic council.

“DiNozzo, my office. Bring Boucher,” Jethro said as he passed both of them.

“On your six,” Tony agreed, and Jethro could hear the humor in his tone. It had been a long time since Tony had shown his old humor without taking an almost manic detour into something inappropriate. Jethro could feel his own tension ease. He wanted the old Tony back, but looking back at how he’d reacted over the last few years, he could see how his own irascible had made things worse. Jethro wouldn’t be surprised if Tony turned him down flat. Hell, that was probably the healthiest reaction he could have.

Giving the visiting suits a little courtesy, Jethro led them to a back elevator before getting in. Tony was right at his heels, and Boucher was a few steps behind. Jethro hit the button for the first floor and let the elevator start moving before he hit the emergency stop.

Boucher turned to face Jethro. “Other people probably want to use the elevator.” The disapproval was palpable.

“They can walk,” Jethro said without any guilt. The building was full of agents who were required to keep up their physical fitness. The stairs would do them good. “The buffalo is your guide, right?” Jethro asked.

Boucher narrowed his eyes. “Shamans don’t usually discuss their guides.”

“Then keep it out of conference rooms,” Jethro said. The words struck Boucher like a slap across the face. He physically jerked. “Why could I see it?” Clearly Boucher knew something about what was going on, and Jethro wanted answers. For a long time, Boucher stared at him. Off to the side, Tony shifted, but Jethro kept his gaze locked on Boucher.

Finally Boucher asked, “Have you seen any other guides?”

This asshole was playing games. “You already know the answer,” Jethro said. He was sure of it.

The small smile Boucher offered him was condescending as hell. “Agent Oberton and I suspected you had attracted some attention; however, no one can predict a guide. They work by their own logic.”

The answer led to silence and staring until Tony finally asked, “Boss?”

Jethro glanced over. Tony hated being left out—always had. So if Jethro wanted any chance of repairing the friendship, he had to curb his tendency to shut everyone out. “There was a golden eagle outside the window, but when Boucher’s guide showed up, it flew through the wall and landed on the back of your chair.”

Boucher added, “I didn’t see the eagle today, but I did see it before.”

Tony turned on Boucher. “What the hell is going on?”

Jethro wanted to know as well. However Boucher didn’t give any answers. Instead he asked Jethro, “How much of the eagle’s feelings can you sense?”

“He thinks all the talking is a waste of time,” Jethro said. He tended to agree with the sentiment. “And he hates that guides are causing harm in this world.” Jethro didn’t mention that the bird also felt a sense of helpless rage that felt entirely too familiar, but whatever the guide remembered, it was larger than anything Jethro had ever experienced.

Boucher looked up at the camera. “Do you mind if I disable any surveillance?”

The guards only had visual, no audio, but Jethro knew that a good lip reader could pick up a lot from video. “Knock yourself out,” he said.

Boucher nodded, and closed his eyes for a second. There was a flash of heat against Jethro’s skin and then Boucher opened his eyes.

“No, what does it mean?” Jethro demanded. He felt Tony shift so they were shoulder to shoulder, the two of them versus Boucher. It felt good to have the old, strong Tony back and at his side.

“Very few people know this, but ancient guides have started to return, and they can join with anyone, even those who are Mundane,” Boucher said.

“Are you suggesting the boss is a shaman now?” Tony demanded.

“No, I’m not,” Jethro said firmly. The second Boucher had made his announcement, Jethro knew it was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. “That bird thinks that giving humans magic is a fool’s game. And he’s not fond of your partner’s guide—that small bird that was sitting on your bull,” Jethro said.

Boucher gave him a wry smile, so clearly Jethro hadn’t said anything surprising. “Guides have their own minds. Darren’s shares a lot of power; yours may not. Either way, he has a lot of it.”

Jethro let out a slow breath. His. He had a guide, although Jethro knew for a fact the bird didn’t intend on creating any shamans, and that meant he wouldn’t share his power. Jethro felt a sense of defensiveness and a could almost feel feathers ruffling in anger. Well, Jethro didn’t trust himself with power. He knew how many times he’d gone off the reservation, so he was fine with this guide not sharing. Most of the time Jethro firmly felt that he’d made the right choices in life, but sometimes a little guilt seeped in around the edges, so he didn’t need the temptation of more power.

“And why are they returning?” Tony asked.

“Excuse me?”

Tony pinned Boucher with an inquisitive look. “You said the ancient guides were just starting to return. If guides are sentient creatures, then the ancient guides would only return if they had a reason.”

Boucher studied Tony for long seconds. “This is something so explosive it could turn the mundane world against us. We could be looking at new witch hunts and mass executions.”

A cold shiver went up Jethro’s spine. The fear was real, but it wasn’t his. Jethro realized the eagle had seen this world Boucher was describing. He had seen thousands die, and he was willing to rip anyone apart to prevent it from happening again. “What am I in the middle of?” Jethro demanded.

“Nothing. Tell the guide to leave, and he will.”

The eagle would leave and he would find another way to watch for the enemy. Jethro recognized the feeling—of being a sniper, waiting, watching, helpless until the target showed up. That’s exactly how the eagle’s emotions felt. And Jethro also got a sense of subtle withdrawal, as though the bird were demonstrating that he was willing to retreat rather than use Jethro as his sniper’s nest against Jethro’s will.

“I never walked away from a fight, and I won’t now,” Jethro said firmly. He intended that for not only Boucher but also for the bird he could sense in the back of his mind. The slow retreat ended, and the eagle eased forward so his feelings were clearer. Enemy. The bird wanted to find the enemy. “What’s coming?” Jethro asked.

“Something’s coming?” Tony asked. “Well that sounds ominous.”

Boucher sighed. “Clearly Agent Gibbs’ friend plans to share information even if he won’t share power.”

Jethro crossed his arms over his chest. “Ya think?”

“I do think. The ancient guides are called ifrit, and they were the first guides to find this world. They drove out a second generation that tasted power and grew corrupt. The evil ifrit are coming.”

“Evil ifrit?” Tony sounded caught between amused and horrified. The name didn’t exactly inspire terror, although Jethro suspected the humor was more DiNozzo misdirection that actual amusement. “So, evil spirits from another world are coming? Yeah, that doesn’t sound like a movie—not at all.” Tony snorted.

Boucher’s eyes narrowed. “Ifrit can give a shaman so much power that he can control hurricanes, create earthquakes, level skyscrapers, and force people to worship him. The oldest ifrit didn’t want to threaten the world, but their children sure as hell didn’t have a problem. If an evil ifrit escapes into this world, what happens if they give that power to someone on our “Most Wanted” walls?” Boucher’s voice was low and intense. Jethro wondered if he would have shared as much without Tony’s goading, but that’s what Tony did best. It made him a formidable interrogator. Boucher continued. “What happens when a sociopath gains the power to wipe memories or enslave thousands?” 

“War,” Jethro said softly. It would be war.

Boucher looked at him.

“And the eagle is here to watch for signs of the enemy, and take them out,” Jethro said firmly. He was one hundred percent in favor of that mission.

“Your eagle has incredible powers, but so does the enemy,” Boucher warned. “If he sees one of the enemy, you need to call and warn someone—me, Agent Oberton or Salma al-Ghamdi.”

Tony shifted, drawing attention to himself. “That’s why the Egyptians sent al-Ghamdi. They’ve never shown any interest in how the rest of the world sees magic, but now they send a representative to DC to set up an office and start funding North American projects to improve the lives of shamans. It’s about this war.”

Boucher didn’t react immediately. “You have remarkable insight. I wasn’t joking about offering you a job working for the Djedi center. A lot of law enforcement agencies need help with magic. You’d be a good fit.”

Jethro’s guts knotted in fear, but Tony just shook his head. “Not interested. But I’m right.”

“About it being North America, no. They’re investing across the world. But you are right that they’re trying to strengthen the Talent community. If we want to fight off this threat, we can’t be fighting each other or allowing stereotypes to drive the wrong people to seek out guides for the wrong reason.”

“Shamans are all power hungry—you mean stereotypes like that?” Tony asked. Jethro had heard that more than once, but Tony was proof it wasn’t true.

“If everyone thinks shamans are assholes, only assholes will undergo shamanic training,” Boucher said. “We need to be better than the worst stereotype of who we are.”

“How far off is the enemy?” Jethro asked. He could tell from the bird that they weren’t in sight yet, but he didn’t know how far away they might be.

Boucher closed his eyes for a second before admitting, “We have no idea.”

That was not the answer Jethro had wanted. Having to live in constant preparation for an enemy you couldn’t see was a recipe for disaster. When Jethro glanced over at Tony, he could see the worry reflected in his eyes.

Boucher straightened up, metaphorically putting on his armor. “That’s why we keep training, keep watchful, and don’t worry too much about a future that isn’t here. If we get sign of any new ifrit, we’ll contact you. In the meantime, don’t ever talk about this. Not ever. If you want to have a conversation, come to see me at the FBI where I have privacy spells set up or come and learn to set your own privacy spells.”

Jethro shook his head. “Nope. The bird won’t give me even that much power. He’s watching, and part of that means keeping himself out of sight so no one spots him.”

“I wish Oberton’s guide had that much sense,” Boucher said wearily. 

“I’ll train,” Tony said. “I am a shaman, and my guide isn’t some strange version of an ancient warrior guide. I can learn to set privacy spells.”

“Magic, not spells,” Boucher said. He waved his hand, and a cool wave washed over Jethro’s skin. “Privacy is gone. If you want help dealing with whomever damaged your guide, let me know. If you need help getting to the spirit plane or preventing a shaman from using his Talent against you, I can help or al-Ghamdi can.”

“We’ll call,” Tony said. “We need to talk to him in this world, and depending on what he says, we may or may not call.”

Boucher studied Tony for a second. “Figure out what the guide is. Guides spend most lifetimes following animals. They get used to certain behaviors. When they seek out human companions, they want someone with similar ways of seeing the world. It reflects well on you that a wolf guide connected with you. It means you’re private, guarded, secretive but very good at tracking. You’re family oriented and tend to favor retreat, but when cornered, you are a fierce fighter. And those with predator guides tend to recognize that the world sometimes requires that you hunt down and eat another living creature. It means you’re a realist.”

“And you’re not?” Tony asked. Jethro understood his point—after all, Boucher’s guide was a bull. As much as they were fierce animals, they weren’t predators.

“Hell no,” Boucher said. He reached over and hit the resume button on the elevator. “I’m a stubborn bastard who stands in the middle of the waterhole and refuses to leave anyone behind. I’m going to save everyone, and if I can’t, I’ll gore every last lion I find trying to touch one of mine.” Boucher gave Tony a crooked smile. The elevator doors opened, and Boucher strode out.

“I might actually like him,” Tony said in Boucher’s wake.

“You’re not taking a job for him,” Jethro said fiercely. If he lost Tony to another NCIS team, he’d deal with it, but if there was a spirit guide war coming, Jethro would not have Tony standing closer to the front lines than Jethro.

Tony graced Jethro with a huge smile. “Of course not, boss.”

Jethro grunted. He wasn’t sure how to take Tony’s sudden good humor, especially when Jethro had regretted getting so pushy the second the words were out of his mouth. “Let’s go talk to your father.”

“Yipee,” Tony said in a toneless voice.

Jethro understood the sentiment. Dealing with Senior was never pleasant.

Looking back, Jethro actually suspected the asshole had used magic against him. Jethro knew he’d reacted quite badly to Senior several times, and yet the last few times the man had crossed into the investigations, Jethro had felt far too forgiving. Jethro wondered if his eagle would protect him from any of Senior’s manipulation.

He got back an image of a thorn hedge bursting out of the ground and providing a thick, impenetrable shield against anyone trying to look in. Jethro took that as a yes.

“Come on.” Jethro headed for the parking garage.

“On your six,” Tony said. He still didn’t sound cheerful, but he had a steel determination in his voice. Jethro smiled. With Tony back to full strength, the old bastard wasn’t going to know what hit him.


	20. Chapter 20

Tony stopped outside the hotel room and took a deep breath. He'd tried confronting Senior in the past and it had never ended well for him. Ever. Honestly, Tony wasn't sure if that was because of magic or because Tony just really sucked at confronting his father.

Oh hell, who was he kidding? He wasn't great at confronting anyone, which is why he turned everything into a joke and liked working for Gibbs, who was more than happy to handle any conflict.

Gibbs rested his hand against the small of Tony's back, and Tony shivered. Immediately Gibbs pulled back.

"No, it's okay," Tony said. He bit his tongue before he could add that it was more than okay--that he needed the overt support because he was freaking out. And for once, that support didn't come with a head slap and a headache.

Gibbs put his hand back. "You'll do good."

Tony wasn't as sure, but he appreciated the support.

"He's going to spin some story," Tony said as he considered the hotel door in front of him.

"Yep."

"And it's going to be pure bullshit."

"Yep."

"And in the past, you guys have been entirely too happy to believe the bullshit." Tony hadn't meant to point that out, but it was true. Even knowing some of the stories from Tony's past, they had rushed to believe that Senior was just a misguided rogue. He was a charming scoundrel with a heart of gold. That's the story they told themselves, and Tony wasn't sure how they reconciled that indulgent view of his father with what Senior had done in the past. He'd abandoned and disowned Tony. He'd publicly humiliated him and left him to suffer through the death of his mother alone. 

"I won't try and explain it," Gibbs said, which was as close as Gibbs ever got to an apology.

"If you can't explain it, how can you keep it from happening again?" Tony asked. For the first time, he admitted to himself that his real fear was that Senior was stealing his new family. Tim saw Senior as the perfect father--more laid back and forgiving than Tim's own. Ziva had responded to his flirting with coy gestures of her own, and Gibbs had proved far more forgiving of Senior than of almost anyone else who had ever crossed a case.

Ellie was the only one who hadn't fallen under Senior's spell and she just watched. Of course she always watched.

"It won't happen again," Gibbs said.

"You can't--"

"It won't!" Gibbs said in a voice that was louder and more fierce. Tony felt a wind against his face like a large bird passing. Tony looked over at Gibbs and raised an eyebrow. For someone who claimed his guide wouldn't share magic, that had seemed rather magical.

Gibbs stared back.

"Gibbs?"

He sighed before he finally gave an answer. "I won't be compromised. Not by Senior--not by anyone."

That sounded a lot like Gibbs did have Talent--at least enough for self-defense. Legally that meant he should register as a shaman, but Gibbs never had cared as much about the law as he did justice.

"You ready?" Gibbs asked. 

Tony nodded and took another breath before he knocked on the hotel door. It took several minutes for the door to finally open, and Senior stood there in a white shirt with his hair still damp. So he'd been in the shower, but he'd made Tony wait while he got dressed. Typical. God forbid anyone see Senior without his masks. And people wondered how Tony had learned to work undercover and keep his own masks in place so effectively. 

"Junior," Senior said. In the past few months, Tony had struggled to tell whether Senior felt genuine affection or if it was all part of one more con. Now Tony could sense the emotions.

Senior did feel a slow current of pride. He liked that Tony had grown into a self-sufficient man, but there was also an undercurrent of ownership in that. Senior was proud of his own accomplishments as a father, which Tony found either insulting or amusing. He couldn't decide which. But more than that, Tony got a sense of contained fear bordering on panic. Senior felt vulnerable and he wanted a place to hide, someplace where he felt safe. And he'd chosen Tony for that.

Tony had already known that his father’s reappearance in his life hadn't been motivated by familial love, but it still hurt to get that sort of confirmation of his worst fears. Senior was essentially playing another angle and running another con--this one designed to find a haven for him as he aged and lost some of his charm.

"Hey, Dad."

"Junior!" Senior smiled brightly. "I’ve been trying to call you. Why weren’t you returning my calls?"

And the opening gambit was an attack using a side of fatherly guilt. Tony had reached a point where he could predict his father's manipulations. Instead of getting defensive, Tony simply said, "I’ve had a lot to deal with." And boy wasn't that true? 

His father glanced over at Gibbs for a second before dismissing him. He then leaned closer, as though sharing a secret. "I’ve heard that you developed your Talent, and that you’ve been working with Councilman Boucher." The tone had a hopeful avarice that turned Tony's stomach. He'd been afraid that he would buckle under the pressure to avoid conflict with his father, but the opposite seemed to be true. Tony wanted to punch him.

"Disappointed?" Tony asked in a parody of sympathy. "I mean, you never wanted people to know you were a shaman, and here I am making people question your genetics. I'm so sorry."

Anger flitted across Senior's face, but then he carefully tucked the emotion away. "I always wanted you to have your own power," he said. And Tony got the feeling that was partially true. His father wanted him to have power, but there was a selfish, hungry edge to it.

"Oh, that’s right. You called me pathetic for not having Talent," Tony said. Behind him, Gibbs leaned against the wall, and Tony got the feeling Gibbs was amused. "You just wanted me to have a secret Talent."

"Now, Junior, you’re overreacting again." This time, Tony felt the magic like a soft cobweb drifting through the wind that suddenly stuck to his skin. However, Tony shrugged his father's magic off.

"So again, nothing is wrong with you and I’m just overreacting." Tony nodded. "Got it."

Senior frowned and the air was stained with surprise. "You were always very dramatic. You got that from your mother. She was a beautiful woman, but she did tend to turn molehills into mountains." The words were intended to gut Tony--to hurt him badly enough for him to retreat until his father could get the upper hand.

Instead Tony took a step closer to Senior. "You really did convince her of that. You screwed with her head so much that she finally stopped complaining about anything and just drank."

Senior turned his back and headed for the window. That's when Tony noticed women's shoes under the desk and a green nightgown draped over a chair. Senior was sharing the space, and if Tony knew his father, the woman was paying. "Are we going to rehash this again?" Senior asked in a disappointed tone. "We all made mistakes, but I thought we were working through all those negative emotions."

Tony couldn't take it any more. His father didn't want them to work through anything--he wanted to bury the past and pretend that this charming facade was the real Anthony DiNozzo, senior. He wanted to pretend that if he stole someone's money while truly believing his own bullshit that made him a victim, and not a consummate con man who lived high on the hog off other people's money. Tony stepped closer to his father. "You attacked my guide." The words were like weapons, and Tony could feel them hit his father.

Senior whirled around, the anger and fear twisted through the air around him. "Excuse me?"

"You attacked my guide, and you were feeding from him, weren’t you?" Tony waited.

For a time, Senior tried to bluff him. He stood shaking his head for long seconds before finally saying, "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

The lie was so obvious, so blatant and crass and offensive that Tony couldn't figure out what to say.

Gibbs stepped up. "Then let's call Boucher in and let him sort this out."

Senior's gaze went to Gibbs, and again, Tony could feel Senior's magic like silken spider webs against his skin.

"Agent Gibbs, I'm sure you understand that Tony is new to this world of shamans, and involving the council with such a slanderous accusation could be dangerous. As his father, I feel an obligation to protect Junior from the vagaries of shamanic politics. Agent Gibbs, I don’t know if you’ve met Boucher, but he has a reputation as a real by-the-book bureaucrat, and Junior has broken a number of rules by developing his Talent so late. Boucher might be playing nice to get information, but sooner or later he’s going to punish Junior for not fitting into Boucher’s precious rules.” As Senior spoke, a clinging sense of pressure tightened around Tony. The magic was enough to make Tony gasp.

But then it was like someone set fire to Senior’s web. Heat flashed over Tony’s skin, and the pressure to believe his father passed.

Senior narrowed his eyes. “Junior, you do seem to have mastered your powers quickly.” The words had an edge of warning to them. “Keep that up and Boucher is going to believe you were a shaman the whole time. I do believe it’s illegal to hide shamanic powers as a law enforcement officer.” 

The threat lay there between them. Either Tony played nice or his father was going to try and turn Boucher against him. Tony doubted it would work, especially since Senior was most persuasive when he could use magic against the victims. Boucher wouldn’t be so easily swayed. “Is that how you want to play it, Dad?”

His father shook his head. “I’ve tried to make this relationship between us work. I know I made mistakes, but we can be a family. And I have a lot I can teach you about shamanism. And I could do it without making it clear to the Djedi center that you have a lot more power than someone new to Talent.”

Carrot and stick. With Senior it was always the carrot and stick.

“God, what a piece of work you are.” Tony wondered how far his father would push this. Even with his magic blocked, he still tried to make himself look indispensable. Tony frowned. He ran into that sort during investigations. They were sometimes the perp, desperate for information so they knew how close the investigation was to finding the truth. Other times, the people were simply desperate. They needed to be the center of everything. If they weren’t, they felt forgotten and discarded. There’d been an old private investigator in Philly who always insisted that the detectives needed him to help solve cases. He’d been the butt of a lot of jokes in the precinct break room. Tony had never seen his father as that brand of pathetic in the past, but now he couldn’t avoid the comparison.

“I’m trying to protect you, son,” Senior said with such sincerity that Tony suspected he might even mean it from his point of view.

“You’re trying to protect yourself, Dad. And I know you were the one who damaged my guide. Why? Were you taking his power—feeding off him—or were you just that afraid that I might grow strong enough to stand up to you?”

“You can’t prove anything.”

Tony noticed that wasn’t a denial.

“We could on the spirit plane,” Tony said. He’d been reading on shamanism, and shamans might have different theories about guides, training, history, and religion, and every other topic under the sun, but they all agreed a person couldn’t lie on the spirit plane without everyone feeling the lie. 

“I don’t feel like visiting the place,” Senior said airily, as if it didn’t matter much to him, but Tony felt an undercurrent of resentment. Maybe something had happened on the spirit plane to make him dislike it, but Tony knew his father would never admit to anything.

“We could bring in Agent Boucher,” Tony said. The councilman’s name made Senior’s eye twitch.

“That would be foolish. You don’t want such an unbending and unforgiving man involved in our family business, especially when he is so powerful. I don’t think you understand just how much Talent that man has. When there was a magical attack on Arlington, he single-handedly defeated one of the most powerful shamans on the east coast and countered a magic user’s protective spells. That’s an obscene amount of power for any one man to possess. I’ve never heard of anyone in the Talent community having that ability.”

Tony’s investigative mind couldn’t avoid noticing that Boucher’s unprecedented power and the return of the old guides seemed to be close together in time. While that wasn’t evidence, it did suggest the connection could use a little investigation.

“So, since the spirit plane is not an option, I’m going to ask that you take my word as your father that I’m not responsible for any harm your guide may have incurred. In fact, since you are family, I will share information I generally keep private. My guide is very small. You can’t possibly think it would have the ability to attack anyone.”

“Size doesn’t mean much with guides,” Tony said. 

Senior laughed. “It matters more than most shamans want to admit. The myth that all guides are equal is promoted only by weak shamans who want to make themselves feel more powerful. I am aware of my guide’s limitations, and that’s why I never wanted to publicly embrace my shamanic powers. They are negligible anyway. Any success I’ve found is due to my own work.” Senior had a smugness that rubbed Tony the wrong way.

Tony turned to Gibbs, who had been surprisingly silent through the whole conversation. Tony would have worried that Gibbs disapproved only Tony could feel the amusement at Tony’s aggression. In the past, Gibbs had advocated for Tony to reconnect with his father, comparing Senior to Jackson Gibbs. Tony thought that was an insult to Jackson, but he’d feared Gibbs would fall back into that pattern.

Instead Gibbs seemed to be on board with confronting Senior.

“I think we should take this to the spirit plane.” Tony had meant that they should bring Boucher into the conflict, but before Tony could finish his suggestion, he blinked and found himself in his vision of the spirit world. He stood on the stage with the ornate theater on one side, and the deep forest on the other. Gibbs was there, leaning against a tree, and he slowly straightened up.

Tony turned around to see Senior standing near the red curtain, which hung from a tall limb of an oak tree.

Senior looked around slowly. “Well, you have developed your powers, Junior.”


	21. Kavon thinks they're all nuts

“Kavon?” Darren said.

Kavon looked up from his work to see Darren with a deer in the headlights expression. Immediately, he went to full alert. His first thought was that the evil ifrit had made their appearance, but then Kavon could feel a sort of admiration mixed with worry drifting through their bond. That definitely didn’t match evil ifrit. 

Darren continued. “We need to go to the meditation room.” He stood and practically bolted out of the office.

Coretta looked up from her computer screen. “He gets weirder every day.”

“He always was unique,” Kavon pointed out. Since the day the probationary officer called FBI headquarters to report his supervising officers as breaking the law and violating civil rights, Darren had always done things his own way.

“Yeah, but since he’s developed Talent, you’re corrupting him with shamanic weirdness,” she said. Coretta preferred crystals over living magic, and she never had hidden that preference.

“Yes, I am. Call if you need anything.”

Coretta nodded, but Kavon knew it would take world-ending disaster for her to make that call. His second was very capable of doing her job and running the team without his help. So that left Kavon free to deal with whatever magical trouble Darren had run into.

He found Darren in the meditation room, and as soon as Kavon closed the door to engage the privacy spell, Darren spoke. “Gibbs’ guide has taken Gibbs, Tony and Tony’s attacker to the spirit plane.”

“Tony’s attacker?” Kavon hadn’t realized they had were going to move so quickly.

“Apparently Aetos got tired of this guy using magic to try and blind Gibbs,” Darren said. “He might not approve of interfering, but he sure interferes quickly when he’s annoyed. So I thought an experienced shaman might be useful in calming the situation.”

Kavon had never before been accusing of calming any situation, so he doubted Darren’s motives on that point. “I take it Aetos is the name of Agent Gibbs’ ifrit.”

“Yep. Aetos doesn’t like Bennu, but he told Bennu when he took the three humans to the spirit plane. I think that’s his way of admitting he doesn’t know how to handle human stupidity.”

“What sort of stupidity?” Kavon asked. Bennu was Darren’s guide—a creature who had walked the ancient Earth and given his chosen human so much power that the human became Ra. Kavon found it was best to be very specific about any information Bennu offered.

“I have no idea,”

Great. Kavon settled in on one of the couches. The spirit plane was a large place, and Kavon didn’t want to go wandering. “Can your guide get us to where Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo are?”

“No problem,” Darren said. Kavon could reach the spirit plane easily on his own, but since he wanted to appear near the two NCIS agents, he let Bennu guide the shift into the spirit plane. When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in DiNozzo’s vision of the spirit plane. Never before had Kavon heard of a shaman who had created a split image—in DiNozzo’s case the plane was half theater and half forest. However, shamans did tend to keep their secrets, so it was possible that others saw the spirit plane in similar ways. Since the spirit plane didn’t have a physical existence that eyes could actually see, every shaman tended to visualize it differently. Near the place where the two realities met, Agents DiNozzo and Gibbs faced an older man with a clear familial link to DiNozzo.

Shit.

Kavon hated cases that involved family dysfunction. The victims were just as likely to turn on the investigators as they were to help. And Kavon wasn’t sure Agent DiNozzo would be any different.

Agent DiNozzo looked over and smiled broadly. “Agent Boucher, nice to see you again. So sorry for bothering you again so quickly.”

There was something deceptive in that statement, but Kavon couldn’t figure out what, so he decided to play along. “I don’t mind Agent DiNozzo.” Kavon nodded toward the senior agent. “Agent Gibbs.” The fact that neither of their guides was visible made Kavon uncomfortable, and he moved closer to Darren.

“Agent DiNozzo, Agent Gibbs,” Darren said in a friendly tone, but at least he had the good sense to stay close to Kavon.

Agent DiNozzo turned to the older man. “Can I introduce my father, Anthony DiNozzo, senior.”

The older man smiled, and Kavon could feel the whisper of magic. The ass was trying to make himself more likable. If anything, that made Kavon develop an instant hatred for DiNozzo’s father. “Councilman Boucher,” the older man said with a smile. “I’ve been very impressed with what I’ve heard about you. As the father of a federal agent, I’m very grateful that another federal agent is on the council. I hope that the needs of law enforcement move to the center of council politics.”

Given that Kavon already had a half dozen of his superiors trying to get him to move council resources out of social services and into law enforcement that was exactly the wrong tactic to take. Kavon crossed his arms over his chest, and Darren moved to a spot slightly in front of him, probably to keep Kavon from doing something unpleasant to the man.

Since this was a diplomatic situation, Darren jumped in before Kavon could comment on Mr. DiNozzo and his opinions. “Mr. DiNozzo, I’m not sure this is the time to discuss council budgets,” Darren said. “We’re both interested in why we were called here.”

DiNozzo senior looked at his son. Clearly the older man believed his son had brought them to the spirit plane. Considering that Agent DiNozzo had come into his power less than a week ago, only an idiot would believe he had developed that sort of ability. It suggested the older DiNozzo didn’t have any shamanic training. Many shamans couldn’t find mentors or afford the fees, or they hid their powers. But it limited how they accessed their guide’s gifts. Since DiNozzo had money, it certainly suggested he had given up the ability to better develop his powers in favor of hiding them.

“We were just having a discussion of how my father’s guide attacked mine.” Tony said.

“That is not how I remember the conversation going,” DiNozzo countered.

“So, are you saying your guide didn’t attack mine?” Tony seemed entirely too cheerful given the situation. Kavon was starting to question the agent’s sanity.

“As I said, my guide is quite small.”

“Which is not a denial,” Tony said. “Gibbs, was that a denial?”

“Nope,” Gibbs said. He leaned back against a tree and didn’t seem terribly concerned. Either he trusted Agent DiNozzo to handle the problem, or he felt safe because of his guide. Kavon wished he knew which. 

“That’s what I thought. So, Dad, did your guide attack my guide?”

“No. No, he didn’t,” the senior DiNozzo said loudly. It was almost the truth, although Kavon felt the deception underneath the literally true words.

“That’s not the complete truth,” Kavon said.

Mr. DiNozzo’s mouth came open, but he closed it when his son spoke, “Yeah, I can tell that. I’ve known Senior for a long time, and I can pretty much spot his bullshit.”

“Language,” DiNozzo, senior snapped.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“So, he didn’t attack Agent DiNozzo’s guide, but he did something to damage him?” Darren guessed. Kavon figured that was probably the truth, but he wasn’t sure if it had been an intentional act or the older DiNozzo showing an inability to control his guide. As part of the council, it was Kavon’s job to make sure he didn’t have a rogue shaman attacking community members, so it was time to figure out what had happened. It sure wasn’t fair to force DiNozzo to confront his own father. 

“Mr. DiNozzo, the charge of attacking a shaman, particularly a young one, is serious. I think you need to explain what happened,” Kavon said, and he even tried to keep his tone even and professional.

DiNozzo gave Kavon a confident smile. “I respect that you have to protect the community, but this is a family matter, and I have other business.”

Kavon felt a slight pressure, but nothing happened except that DiNozzo’s expression grew thunderous.

“How dare you detain me here,” DiNozzo snapped, so clearly he’d attempted to return to the physical plane. And now that he couldn’t leave, he was directing all his anger at Kavon. “I will have my lawyers sue you for unlawful imprisonment, and since you are a federal agent, you are precluded from acting in such a high-handed manner.”

“Good luck proving I’m the one keeping you here,” Kavon said. In truth, he wasn’t. That left Darren and Agent Gibbs as the two likely suspects. Blocking another’s control over the spirit plane was an advanced skill that only the oldest and most experienced shamans mastered, but those two had guides that would consider it child’s play.

DiNozzo turned red in the face. “I demand that you allow me to leave.” He turned toward his son. “Junior, explain to these men that they have no right to hold me, and they will regret it.”

“Oh, they’ll regret it,” Tony said before he turned to Kavon. “If Dad can’t beat you legally, he’ll have his lawyers throw up so much mud that some of it will stick to you, and he’ll use his Talent to make sure everyone believes that he’s the victim, which will cast you in the role of villain. Of course, I don’t know if he can still afford to pay lawyers, so he may go straight to maligning your name.”

“Junior!” DiNozzo sounded horrified, but that didn’t lessen the general sense of amusement that Tony was putting out. Thank god Kavon didn’t have that insanity in his unit. Fornell had made a few comments about Gibbs’ DiNutzo, but Kavon had thought the cranky old bastard had been exaggerating. Clearly not.

Kavon ignored all the strange reactions and focused on facts. “Mr. DiNozzo, what interactions did your guide have with your son’s guide?”

DiNozzo turned on him. “That’s none of your business!”

“Were there any sexual interactions?” Kavon kept a straight face. Guides sometimes mimicked sexual behavior, but they didn’t have sex or procreate sexually. Kavon wasn’t sure how new guides were made, but it wasn’t through pregnancy. However, strong emotions often lowered barriers, and disgust was an easy emotion to trigger. Luckily it worked. Sometimes an accusation like that inspired guilt instead, which was just as useful in lowering magical blocks, but it was much more difficult to deal with.

“How dare you!” DiNozzo snarled the words, and a bird appeared just behind DiNozzo. It was a small gray bird with a lighter belly and yellow and orange beak. Well shit.

“Is that…” Darren gestured toward DiNozzo’s guide.

“Yeah,” Kavon said slowly. Kavon hated those things.

“What is it?” Gibbs asked. This was the first he’d joined the conversation, but Kavon was more comfortable speaking to the senior agent. Agent DiNozzo’s reactions were too unpredictable for Kavon.

“The guide is an oxpecker,” Kavon said.

“And?” Gibbs demanded.

“They’re parasitic,” Darren explained. “They break the skin of larger animals. It lets them drink the blood and allows insects to lay eggs so the birds can come back later and feed off the insects.” 

Kavon had never met a shaman with an oxpecker guide that he hadn’t hated. Cuckoos, mind-controlling worms, and coots were on the short list, along with oxpeckers, of guides that most shamans would shun. And any shaman attached to one of these manipulative guides would often find themselves unwelcome in any shamanic community. 

Tony lost most of the color out of his face, and Gibbs’ expression turned cold. In fact, his expression bordered on homicidal.

“Gee, Dad, let me guess,” Tony said. “You don’t consider it an attack because your bird left only a small wound, right?”

“Junior, they’re guides. They follow their instincts.”

“And your guide’s instinct was to cripple my guide. So tell me, does it give you more magic—more power—when you feed from my guide?”

Darren answered when Mr. DiNozzo appeared to turn mute. “It would have transferred energy from your guide to his. Your guide gets weaker, leaving him even more vulnerable to parasites, and when your father’s guide comes back to those open wounds, he can absorb energy since your wolf can’t defend himself.”

Now DiNozzo found his voice. “I never encouraged that. I wasn’t even sure the wolf belonged to Junior.”

Lies had a life of their own on the spirit plane, and that felt like Mr. DiNozzo was lying to himself as well as the rest of them. He’d known it was his son’s guide, and he denied it so much that he managed to convince himself he was unsure.

“Bull,” Tony said. “Give it up, Dad.”

“I am being unfairly characterized here,” DiNozzo said. He had such an offended tone in his voice, but his emotions felt angry.

“Mr. DiNozzo,” Darren said, “you have to know that it’s quite easy to see the truth on the spirit plane. You allowed your guide to target your son’s guide. You denied him his Talent.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not a trained shaman, you know. I can’t be expected to understand how this all works.” DiNozzo gestured at the spirit plane.

“You knew your son was suffering,” Kavon said without much mercy. DiNozzo senior was a nightmare.

“You have no right to tell me how to be a father. I lost my wife. I was grieving, and I did the best I could when I had to be out there raising money and keeping the family together.”

Gibbs stepped forward. “I thought your late wife left you money.”

DiNozzo sniffed. “Not enough. Do you know how much his private schools cost? And he kept getting kicked out of them.” The father gave his son a dirty look.

Gibbs was moving now, and even though he wasn’t putting out emotional signals, Kavon could read the danger in the way he moved. This was a man who could kill in hand to hand combat, and he was zeroing in on DiNozzo, senior. Kavon put out his hand to move Darren aside and he moved to intercept. Hopefully Aetos wouldn’t get involved if Kavon had to stop Gibbs because Kavon’s bull was no match for the ancient guide.

“Agent Gibbs, stand down,” Kavon said.

Gibbs didn’t even spare him a glance. He focused on DiNozzo. “You had a son who loved you, who needed you. You could have enjoyed a good life, but you needed to have the best and the biggest of everything. You never had enough respect, enough money, enough people fawning over you. So you traded the chance to be a father in order to bleed the rest of the world out of any money you could.”

“Don’t trot that old rumor out,” DiNozzo said with contempt. “Junior doesn’t understand business, or the risky nature of high-return investments, so he likes to tell everyone how I manipulate and run cons. It isn’t true.”

Considering that DiNozzo had an oxpecker guide, Kavon was sure it was true. After all, guides gravitated to humans who had thought patterns similar to what they knew and were familiar with. An oxpecker was used to being a parasite.

“Oh that’s right,” Tony chimed in. “You’re just the victim in all this. Poor Anthony DiNozzo. His son blames him all the time, his old business partners cheated him, his investors won’t take his calls, and none of it was ever his fault. Dad, you have the life you created. We had plenty of money when I was growing up, but you had to chase your dream. You had to be big. Bigger than big. You had to impress everyone.”

“And you enjoyed living well!” DiNozzo shot back.

“Of course I did,” Tony shouted back. “I still like having a well-tailored suit. But I sure as hell won’t trade away my reputation or other people’s money to get it. I don’t destroy other people’s lives.”

“Here it comes. I thought you were ready to grow up and put the past behind us, but please, go on. Tell me how I ruined your life and your mother’s life. If you can’t stop living in the past, I don’t know that we’ll ever be able to heal this relationship.” DiNozzo was all indignant outrage.

“Okay. That works for me.” Tony stepped to Gibbs’ side and crossed his arms. The two NCIS agents were like a pair of matched bookends, both staring down DiNozzo, senior. Kavon stayed close enough to grab Gibbs if it looked like he was going to launch an attack, but stayed out of it otherwise. If DiNozzo really fed off his son’s Talent, then Tony deserved the first shot at the old man.

“Junior, I’m getting older.” There was real fear in the air now. “I don’t have that many years left on this Earth, and I want to reconnect with my son. You’re letting all this unimportant minutia distract you from what we could have here and now. You’re my son. I want us to have a relationship.”

“No, you want someone to love you,” Tony said slowly. “And I wanted to for a long time. You’re the only father I’ll ever have, and I wanted to believe you. During that Hawaii trip, I believed you’d changed, and then you abandoned me there. Before you invited me to the Long Island trip, I believed you’d changed, and then you left me to nearly freeze and then stole my guide’s power. Hell, the last time you visited, I believed you’d changed, and that’s why I paid your hotel bill. I didn’t want my father to end up in jail when he was trying so hard to be a better human being. So I gave up my entire vacation savings and let you believe that the sheik had paid it so you wouldn’t have to feel bad. After all, that was a year’s worth of savings I used. But when I talked to someone at the front desk during a later case, it turns out that you’d told them up front that your son would pay the bill. You’d planned to manipulate me into giving money right from the beginning, and I’m still trying to figure out if that was you playing the family card or if you used magic to con me. Because I know you. I’ve seen you run cons my whole life, and still, I fell for your whole helpless act.”

“Tony,” Gibbs said softly. He put a hand on Tony’s arm, and the strong feelings were a palpable bond between them. Kavon didn’t know exactly what their relationship was, but they shared a deep well of love. 

“I appreciate what you did for me, Junior,” DiNozzo said, but Tony cut him off before he could go any farther.

“And I’ll never do it again. I don’t trust you, and I don’t trust your guide around mine. So let me make this very clear—I am going to file for a protective order so you need to stay away from me in the physical world. And if your guide comes anywhere near mine, I’ve told him to consider that bird of yours his dinner. Clear?”

“Junior!” 

And with that, Gibbs and DiNozzo vanished back to the physical plane.

DiNozzo senior had his jaw clenched as he stared at Kavon. He probably would accuse Kavon of abuse of power, but Kavon had a long reputation as a rule following ass, so no one would believe him of crossing the line, especially not when he was about to show mercy. “Mr. DiNozzo, I will take your case to the council and explain what happened with your guide and your son’s. You may be asked to testify if defense attorney’s want verification that your son had no access to his Talent. So I’m willing to offer you a deal. If you agree to testify, I will recommend that the council forgo destroying your guide.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“I have already destroyed guides that I considered corrupt,” Kavon said. It was a drastic action, but given that one of shamans had tried to strip out Kavon’s soul and enslave him, Kavon felt he had a right to defend himself with lethal force, even on the spirit plane. “What you did nearly killed a powerful guide. Your guide’s death would be justice given that he nearly killed another. However, your son is more interested in protecting NCIS cases, so I’m willing to give up council justice. You have ten seconds to give me your answer.” Kavon stood and watched the older man shift and twitch.

Finally, DiNozzo said, “Fine. But if there are any sanctions against me or my guide, my son will tell you what kind of enemy I make. I will twist words around until even his director starts to wonder if my son is lying. I’ll have juries scratching their heads and wondering if Junior hasn’t used some of that powerful magic to alter the memories of his poor, aging father. I will fling enough mud that even the most Teflon surface will have something stick to it. So you keep that in mind when you talk to the other council members. I go free. My guide goes untouched.”

With that, DiNozzo senior vanished. Kavon hoped the two NCIS agents had time to clear out before DiNozzo returned to his body because all the masks were gone, and his true colors were showing. He was a serious asshole.

“I can’t believe you made a deal with him,” Darren said as the spirit realm started to slowly shift. With only Darren and Kavon here, it took the form they were used to seeing—a veldt with a few meandering streams coming off a major river, and in the distance, Egyptian monuments reaching up toward the sky.

“I did, but I also told him I’m going to present the council with all the facts. If I do that in open session, who knows who might be there to hear about Mr. DiNozzo’s actions.”

Darren slowly smiled. “I love you. Can I call Ellison from the Post?”

“You can call whomever you like,” Kavon said. And if Ellison was busy on the next open council day, Kavon was sure they could leak the information somehow. DiNozzo was well-known in certain social circles, and the fact that he was a shaman who manipulated emotions and fed off his own son would be of great interest. Kavon didn’t feel any need for further punishment because Anthony DiNozzo Senior was about to face his greatest fear—everyone was going to see the real man.


	22. Chapter 22

Jethro was approaching the exit to his house, but Ziva was there, and he suspected that they wouldn’t get much talking done around her. Jethro still couldn’t believe she had hidden her pregnancy from Tony. Now feeding on Tony’s guide… that he could believe. When she’d first joined the team, she’d made no secret of the fact that she thought herself better than Tony. And Jethro had been caught in the middle with his guilt over Ziva killing her brother for him and Jenny Shepherd pushing him to take her on the team, and his common sense and Tony pushing him to keep her off. 

Maybe that’s when his relationship with Tony had started to sour. Tony had a habit of pointing out Jethro’s failings, and sometimes Jethro wasn’t always a strong enough man to face them. Instead he started bulldozing Tony, and now that Jethro knew how injured Tony had been that entire time, he felt like more of a bastard than usual. Jethro had never attacked an injured man before.

“Your place?” Jethro asked.

Tony gave him an odd look, but he nodded. Jethro was used to Tony filling any silence with an odd combination of insight, inappropriate jokes, and self-deprecating comments, but now he remained silent. 

Jethro didn’t have a knack for small talk, so he let the silence linger as he parked and followed Tony up to his apartment. The space was unchanged, unlike the rest of Tony’s life. Jethro knew he wouldn’t handle it well if he’d had even half as many disasters land on his plate. He’d survive—he’d proved that he could survive anything. However, he’d be on the warpath. Tony just dropped his suit jacket over the back of a chair and headed for the kitchen.

Jethro followed. “You okay?” 

Tony stood in front of the open fridge. “I don’t have anything to eat in the house.” He closed the fridge and continued to stare at the closed door.

“We can order.”

At that, Tony turned. “Are you going to stick around?”

Jethro could feel the edge of anger in the question. In the past, Jethro had walked out too damn many times. Looking back, Jethro couldn’t explain it, except that he had gone from being sure Tony would step up to the plate to frustrated that he refused to. “I want to,” he said, well aware that Tony might not want him around. 

Tony ran his fingers through his hair. “What are we playing at here? If you’re feeling guilty, don’t. My father mind-fucked better men than you. If you’re worried that I’ll pursue something between us, don’t.”

That hurt. Jethro had spent years trying to protect himself from getting too attached to Tony, but apparently he’d failed. “If you don’t want there to be anything between us, that’s fine,” Jethro said slowly. “So what do you want to do about work? I like having you as my second, but you should have had your own team years ago.”

Tony gave Jethro an incredulous look before walking out without a word. Jethro’s frustration nearly boiled over, and he clenched his teeth. However, his gut told him that if he took his anger out on Tony, he would lose any relationship with the man. This Tony had his guide back. He wasn’t spiritually bleeding, and he wouldn’t put up with Jethro’s crap. That had been one of the traits that had made Jethro like Tony when they’d first met back in Baltimore. So Jethro reined in his temper before he followed Tony out to the living room.

“Why are you doing this, Gibbs?” Tony demanded before Jethro could say a word.

“Doing what?” Jethro hated feeling like he couldn’t follow a conversation, but Tony wasn’t making sense.

“You’re being so damn reasonable. Are you like my father? You see something you want now that I’m not pathetic old Tony?” The anger was unmistakable.

“Fuck that,” Jethro strode across the living room and caught Tony by the shoulders. “Rule five, Tony. I always felt that way, but I was watching you fade away. You were wasting your own life and I resented the hell out of it because I missed the Tony I met in Baltimore.”

Tony windmilled his arms, pushing Jethro away in the process. “So, what? You decided to tell the team to not respect me or listen to my orders because you wanted me to be stronger? What about your behavior was even a little bit appropriate.”

Jethro stepped back. “I thought you would step up.”

“But I guess since I wasn’t strong enough to do that, you decided to declare open season on Tony DiNozzo.”

Now Jethro could feel his temper start to slip. “I couldn’t figure out how to deal with your wild fluctuations. I thought you were depressed, and I was trying hard to keep Leon the hell away from you before he pulled you from the field.”

“Depressed. So you just thought I was crazy. Great.” Tony turned his back and looked out onto the street.

This was feeling more and more like a fight with an ex-wife. “Jenny, Paula, Dorneget… Kate. How many people have you lost? So yes, I did think you were depressed. I’ve lost as many friends to depression as I have to war.” Jethro had been terrified that Tony would get pulled off active duty, and from there Jethro had thought it would be a short trip to a suicide. I didn’t know about your guide.”

“And now that you do?” Tony’s voice had a strong challenge, and Jethro stepped close before he spoke.

“I would have figured out who was hurting your guide, and I would have killed them.”

Tony blinked at him. Jethro met his gaze without flinching because he meant every word. 

“Even Ziva?”

The very thought makes Jethro’s heart ache, but Tony deserves the truth. “I wouldn’t kill her to make you feel better, but to protect you? Yeah. I would have killed even Ziva.”

Tony’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Clearly he hadn’t expected that. Jethro had the feeling he’d really fucked things up. “I thought if I pushed, you’d step up and get over your depression.” That sounded stupid when Jethro said it out loud.

“No offense, boss, but you have no business doing anything that approaches psychology.”

“Yeah, I fucked up,” Jethro said.

“That almost sounds like an apology.”

“It’s a statement of fact, and I promise to try to do better. So, how do you want to handle work? Vance is going to be an ass, but if we both push, we can get him to promote you.”

“So we can have a relationship without violating rule twelve?” Tony sounded wary again. He was attributing Jethro’s every action in the worst possible light, but Jethro understood why. He’d lost most of his credibility with Tony, and it wasn’t like he could invite the man over for cowboy steaks because of Ziva.

Jethro went to the couch and sat. It meant there was a lot of space between them, and Jethro had the feeling Tony needed that. “You deserve a promotion. Whether you want a relationship with me has nothing to do with your position at work.”

“But if I stay on the team, you won’t start a relationship with me?”

Jethro sighed. The rule was a good one. Jethro had never been very good at separating his personal and professional life. He either kept a steel blast door between them, or he lost all sense of boundaries. Jenny was proof of that. “I’ll still want a relationship, but if we’re on the same team, it’s inappropriate. And if I’m your supervisor, it’s against the rules.”

A rough laugh burst out of Tony. “Are you seriously citing rules? I mean, someone else’s rules? You must think I’m stupid.”

“I’m bad at relationships, and I can’t afford that kind of distraction at work.”

“So, you assume that if we start a relationship, it’s going to end badly?” Tony headed for the chair nearest the piano and sat. “That’s not an encouraging sign.”

“I think I’m going to piss you off,” Jethro said. “God knows I did every wife I ever had.”

“Even Shannon?”

The question was so soft that Jethro could have pretended he didn’t hear it. If anyone else had asked, he would have ignored it completely. Instead he took a deep breath and answered. “Especially Shannon. The others got angry and tried to deal with it because they felt sorry for the broken widower, the suffering ex-soldier. Shannon would blast me with both barrels every damn time. There were days we didn’t speak to each other.”

Tony stared at Jethro with wide eyes.

Jethro liked to remember the good times with his girls, but he had those good times because Shannon never let the bullshit gather in the corners where it annoyed her. She burned hot and fast, and forgave the second Jethro backed the hell down. Tony was the only person Jethro met who could have matched her. They would have loved each other. And Shannon would have made a point to find Tony a nice man or woman to settle down with—someone nicer than Jethro. But Jethro was selfish enough to admit that he wanted Tony for himself.

“You wouldn’t have worked with Shannon?”

Jethro snorted. “Hell no. And if we tried, one of us would have been fired within a week.”

Tony seemed to think about that, and Jethro gave him time to do just that. Apparently Jethro had rearranged Tony’s world view a little. It had been unfair to drop all this on Tony just when the rest of his life went to hell, but Jethro couldn’t stand by and let Tony suffer through all this upheaval without wanting to help.

“I’ve had your six for a long time. I don’t think I can give that up.”

Jethro nodded. Disappointment was bitter in his mouth, but Tony had a lot of change to deal with. Jethro wasn’t entirely surprised that Tony wasn’t ready to make any change in their personal relationship. “I’ll talk to Leon tomorrow and put my foot down about him not screwing with my team.” One day Jethro would run out of threats, but as long as he had the best closure rate in the agency, Leon wouldn’t rock the boat too hard.

Tony nodded. “So make sure he finds me a team lead out of the DC office. If he sends me to Timbuktu, I can’t make sure you’re taking care of yourself. And with Ziva in your house, you’re going to need someone to have your six on the home front.”

Jethro slowly smiled.

“And I’m still not moving in with you,” Tony said firmly. “I can’t handle that much Ziva. I get that she felt a lot of loyalty to her father, but I don’t plan to forgive her any time in the near future.”

Jethro held his hand out toward Tony, not sure if the man was ready to take even that first step yet. However, Tony immediately stood and caught hold of Jethro’s hand. Jethro pulled Tony down onto the couch next to him and slipped an arm around Tony. God it felt right. How often had they pressed close together as they took cover from a gunman or tried to both examine the same piece of evidence? Tony’s body felt familiar, safe, perfect. But to have Tony pressed against Jethro’s side was also new and exciting. Tony put his head on Jethro’s shoulder, and a shiver travelled up Jethro’s spine.

“You don’t have to forgive her,” Jethro promised. He would never press Tony to do that, especially when Ziva had not only hidden Tony’s child, but she had been raising her in a bomb shelter, as if prepared for enemies to storm the house with RPGs. It suggested she needed some psychiatric help.

“No, but if I want Tali to be happy, I have to deal with her. And you have to live with her.” Tony poked Jethro in the side. “You got the shit end of this assignment.”

Jethro thought about that little girl with dark curls and her Daddy’s eyes. “I can handle it,” he said. He did love children, although so often they did come with that darker reminder of the child he’d lost. “And on days when I can’t, maybe I can come over here.”

Tony held his hand out, and Jethro threaded his fingers between Tony’s. “Deal,” Tony said as he closed his fist so their hands were locked together.


	23. Chapter 23

Tony stood outside Gibbs' house and started to question his sanity. Jethro had offered to come with him, and like a fool, Tony had turned him down. Sure, Tony had to face Ziva alone eventually, but he wasn't sure that today was the day for that. But since Jethro was at work, Tony had set himself up for this mess.

He took a deep breath and got out of the car. Part of Tony wished he could call Gibbs and ask for backup, but that was the coward's way. Tony had to deal with the mother of his child without hiding behind his.... What was Jethro? Friend was probably the safest word, but Tony did hope for more. Sure, Jethro was a cantankerous, short-sighted bastard who knew about as much about human psychology as the average housefly. But Tony still wanted him.

Standing in front of Jethro’s door, Tony took a deep breath and braced himself for a confrontation with Ziva. He never knew what to expect from her, and now that he knew her guide had been feeding from him, the feeling had doubled. She had always confused him—playing seductress one moment and damaged soul the next. She would play the ninja and pretend to be above everything and then cry over a case they hadn’t solved fast enough to save someone.

Tony knew all those masks were part of who Ziva really was, just like Tony the playboy and Tony the hard ass and Tony the goofball were all him in a way. They were aspects of him that he played up or down depending on what he needed at the time.

The door came open before Tony could make any decisions about how to handle the situation.

“Tony.” Ziva sounded guarded.

“Surprise,” Tony said with a smile.

“I expected you to come with luggage so you could move in. Why would I be surprised?”

Tony sighed. He didn’t really know how to talk to Ziva, not that he ever did. She had a language all her own. 

“Where is your luggage?” Ziva leaned around him to look toward the car.

“I didn’t bring any. I’m not actually moving in.”

Immediately all of Ziva’s defenses slammed into place. After taking a step backward she crossed her arms. “Oh?” With her chin raised, she waited. Her body language demanded explanations. Tony felt a little sorry for their daughter the first time Tali tried lying to her mother.

“Where’s Tali?” Tony asked as he passed Ziva.

“She’s playing.”

“Playing?” Tony felt a shiver as he wondered if Tali was in the basement. That place was damp and full of sharp tools, but Ziva had shown a certain preference to put Tali in bomb-proof enclosures.

“Upstairs,” Ziva said with a touch of anger in her voice.

“Oh.” Tony glanced up and saw someone had fitted the top of the stairs with a sturdy child gate. Reassured that she was safely out of earshot, Tony headed for the couch. “I thought we could talk.”

“Talk?” Ziva still had that defensive tone. They’d been partners for a lot of years, so while she might think she was hiding her fear, but Tony could see it in every move. She shifted to stand near the bottom of the stairs, telegraphing her fear of losing Tali.

Tony sat on the couch. “Did I ever tell you about my mother?”

“No.” Ziva sounded unsure now.

“She drank too much and she had definite flaws, but she loved me. I always knew that.”

Ziva took a step closer. “She died, yes?”

Tony nodded. “She did. But I had her love for eight years, and that’s what saved me when things got really bad with Senior. But losing her caused me more pain than I can describe.”

“My mother tried to keep my father from influencing me. She would take me to the ballet and buy dolls, but she was not a shaman. She did not understand the link between my father and me.”

Tony wondered how Ziva would have turned out if her father hadn’t been a shaman, able to manipulate his children into following his agenda. Tony did understand that guides could influence a shaman, and Ziva had a wasp guide that would have pushed her to remain faithful to the nest. Her father would have understood that. Tony wondered what sort of guide Eli David had connected with.

“I never want my daughter to know the pain of losing her mother. I mean, I want us to die before her, but not until we’re all old and she has grandkids of her own. She needs you. I don’t want her to spend her life cherishing memories of you instead of having the real you to run to. There are going to be times that I’m too busy to come home or a case takes me out of town, and there will be times your life gets crazy and you need time to yourself, and it’s going to take both of us to raise her.” Tony thought about Jethro. “All three of us, counting Gibbs. Face it, he’s the only one with experience.”

Ziva came into the room and sat on the dining room chair. God Jethro needed new furniture. “Tony,” Ziva said softly, “I have experience raising Tali. I have always been there for her.”

“Yes, and you’re a good mother. But raising her alone is not healthy.” Tony was proud of himself for not bringing up the damn bomb shelter Ziva had turned into a nursery. Who the hell did that? It wasn’t like the PLO was going to break in and blow up the house.

“I wanted to tell you.”

Tony studied her. He could read the truth of that statement in the guilt she practically projected. “Why didn’t you? Did you know when you told me to go back to NCIS?” Tony figured that’s when she got pregnant. They’d only had sex four times, and three of them had been after she left NCIS and he’d followed her.

Ziva’s gaze dropped to the floor between them. “I suspected, but I was not sure.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would have stayed.” Ziva looked up. “My mother returned to my father after they had split, and she never stopped hating my father for all the freedoms she gave up to be in that relationship. I know she did it for me and my sister, and sometimes I imagine she looked at us as anchors that held her to a life she did not want.”

“Oh Ziva.” Tony hated all the misunderstanding and betrayals that they carried. Some of those were times they had betrayed each other, but they were both damaged long before they’d met. And while Tony and Jethro were damaged in ways that they could patch each other’s flaws, Tony realized he and Ziva were damaged in the same ways. Their flaws lined up so each would weaken the other. Neither of them knew who they were, so together, they were simply more lost.

Ziva shrugged. “It is what it is. That is past.”

Tony doubted that. As long as Ziva felt the pain, it still existed. Tony had learned that from his own difficult history. But pity had never been the way to go with Ziva. “So, we need to figure out how to respect and like each other well enough that Tali knows we will both always love her and we won’t ever put her in the middle.”

Ziva cocked her head slightly to the side. “I always thought we would end up together.”

For a moment, shock robbed Tony of the ability to form words. They’d always had an up and down relationship, but that train had long ago left the station. Tony could feel his wolf begin to pace at the very thought of being vulnerable near Ziva. Her guide might have instincts, but his did as well. And his wolf was in favor of ripping Ziva’s throat out. “How could….” Tony held up a hand. He didn’t need to reopen this wound. “Nevermind.”

The resigned nod spoke volumes. “You are upset because of my guide,” Ziva said calmly.

Tony had to take a deep breath and remind himself that his daughter was right upstairs where she could hear them. He had to practice disagreeing without fighting or Tali would learn too many bad habits from him. “Well, yeah. You let your guide feed off mine.”

“I honestly did not allow it,” Ziva said, but then gave a slight grimace. “In the beginning perhaps I was not vigilant.”

“You wanted me off the team.”

Ziva was silent for a time. “I will not lie. My mission was to make myself an integral part of NCIS, and you were more resistant to my attention than my research had led me to believe you would be.”

“You thought I would fall into your bed,” Tony translated.

“Yes.” Ziva fell silent, and her guard was up again. Now Tony honestly couldn’t read her.

“And from there?”

She shrugged again. “From there you would be easy to manipulate as I needed. But your reputation did not reflect your true motives or actions. And Gibbs was too attached to you. I needed you to leave.”

Tony thought back to those early years. He avoided bringing up that damn dinner party, but he could still feel the hot flash of embarrassment when he thought about all his friends stabbing him in the back. “So you started your campaign of harassment. You invited everyone else to dinner; you followed me into the bathroom.”

“I told the others you had blown me off. It made Gibbs very aggravated when I told him how bothered I was by your refusal and asked him how I could better relate to you.” Tony stared at her. Hell, that put a few things in a different light. Ziva sighed. “It was supposed to make you transfer. I never had any malice toward you. And the longer we worked together, the more I regretted that politics had put such barriers between us.”

“There were no barriers. We were team members. The fact we have a daughter shows how close we became at one point,” Tony pointed out. He was starting to think he deserved a medal for having this conversation without yelling. The topic warranted screaming and swearing and a few thrown dishes.

“I know.” Ziva didn’t even try to present a defense.

“Then how could you let your guide do so much damage?”

Ziva stood, clearly agitated. “Because I did not understand that I would grow to like you so much and because I am not strong enough to stop my guide. He will do as he does.”

“But he chose you because you two are alike—so can’t you communicate with him?”

Her flinch told Tony everything he needed to know. Tony’s voice turned deadly quiet. “You did communicate with him.” In the distance, Tony could hear a strange cross between barking and howling. The long series of vocalizations ended with a growl, and a sense of danger washed over Tony. His heart started to pound faster.

“It’s not what you think,” Ziva said.

“What? You didn’t send your wasp against me?” The sharpness of the tone surprised even Tony and he had to take a few calming breaths.

“Not directly, no. After Gibbs returned from Mexico, I knew I did not want to continue to hurt you. I thought you were ill, and you had a hospital bracelet and I realized I wanted you in my life. I fought him. I told him he had to stop and he usually did, although I had to remain vigilant.” Ziva crossed her arms over her stomach.

Tony stood. “You wouldn’t feel this guilty if you had done even a halfway decent job of keeping your guide in line.”

She glanced toward the front door. Maybe she was waiting for the cavalry to arrive, but they had to solve this together—just the two of them. That’s why Tony had asked Jethro to stay out of it. Finally she said softly, “After Michael died…”

Tony interrupted. “Seriously? Are you still blaming me for that?”

“No!” she said quickly, her voice rising, but then she lowered her voice. “No, I know Michael had been drinking. He was irrational, and no matter what I might have implied at the time, I do not wish for him to have won that fight. That is not what made it so difficult to keep my wasp from feeding.”

“Then what changed?”

“My father…”

“Your father changed?” Tony was definitely losing track of the conversation.

“No. No, it is not—.” Ziva sighed and sat again. “My father was the center of my life for so many years. He raised me to be his warrior. What is it you always called me? Your Mossad ninja? That is too true. He was my leader, my general, far more than my father. He would send me on missions—tell me to use my body to trap men. He would choose those with whom I would spend my time. Michael was the first man I chose for myself—that I chose despite my father. And when we went to Israel…” Her voice cracked.

Tony could finally see the pattern. He slowly sat back down on the couch. “I showed you that Michael was your father’s tool all along.” Tony couldn’t imagine what Ziva had felt. She had thought she was finally finding her independence, and the manipulative bastard had been pulling her closer all the time.

“I never had broken away from him. I was still the Mossad ninja.” Ziva sounded so broken. “I had wanted to be a ballerina. I had wanted to paint or create beauty in the world, but I was Eli David’s daughter first and always.”

“You don’t believe that,” Tony said firmly. Eli David was dead, and while plenty of dead shamans remained on the spirit plane for years after their deaths, he couldn’t control her anymore.

“Perhaps not now.” Ziva looked up at Tony. “And I have you to thank for that. A child would never have been in my father’s plans, not unless the father had enough political clout that having a child would make good leverage. My father did not approve of your or your lack of ambition. You have shown me how to reject his judgment.”

“I never cared what your father thought of me.”

“You also do not care for what I think of you anymore,” she said sadly, “but I believe you are a good man, a forgiving one. You have encouraged me to return when most men would have either cursed me or denounced me.”

“I’m not perfect, Ziva. I’ve ruined lives. I ruined Jeanne Benoit’s illusions and drove her out of the city. I pushed Wendy into a corner, and I’ve let people down.”

“Your flaws are a fraction of those others carry. You are a good man, and I always thought that if I could only tell you the truth you would forgive me.”

“And I do.” Tony said. Forgiving had never been as difficult as understanding, and maybe he understood a little more today than he had yesterday. His daughter’s mother was one more person Eli David had damaged and then sent out into the world.

“And us?” Ziva asked. There was no artifice or seduction in her tone, just a simple, weary question.

“I forgive you because we’re going to be co-parenting Tali for decades. We need to be partners and friends, but I can’t—. We won’t be involved.”

She nodded. “You don’t trust me.”

“I trust you to have my six every time. I trust you to love our daughter. But I don’t trust you in a relationship. And I’ve moved on. I can’t risk ruining my new relationship by letting you nurse some hope that we’ll get back together.”

“I see.”

Tony didn’t want to hurt her. “Ziva…”

She waved his words away. “No. It is fine. You should move on. I will find my own way.”

“You don’t have to find your own way. I’m here for you.”

“You are here for Tali. I should find employment so I can pay my own way. You are not responsible for me.” She had her stoic look on her face as she turned her face away. Tony mourned for her. The second she thought someone couldn’t use her, she assumed they would throw her away.

“No, but I’m your friend.”

“How can you be?”

“Because we’ve worked together for nine years, because we have a daughter together. Because I understand that life has backed you into a corner over and over.”

When she looked at him again, her eyes shone with tears. “This would be easier if you would be normal.”

“So sorry for making your life difficult with my abnormality,” Tony said with a grin.

“This new woman of yours is lucky.”

Tony blushed. “Well….” He stopped, unsure about how to explain what had changed. He didn’t understand his relationship with Jethro, so explaining it was out of the question.

“The woman is not new? Wendy or Jeanne perhaps?”

“What? No.” Shock made Tony’s voice go up an octave. 

Ziva jumped to the right conclusion. “Tony, are you dating a man?”

“If I am?” If she was going to get offended, he wanted to deal with the issue now and keep any tension away from Tali.

“Good for you. I have always admired your ability to not care what others think of you. Then I hope he knows how lucky he is.” Ziva’s smile was genuine.

“He’d better. If he doesn’t, I’ve had it up to here with his sullen and silent act.” Tony held his hand up to chin level. 

Ziva’s eyes grew larger. She had caught his reference.

“Just because he’s a functional mute does not mean he’s going to get a pass if he pulls attitude,” Tony said, enjoying the look on her face. Most of the time Ziva policed her expressions, but right now every thought appeared in her face.

“You are seeing Gibbs?” Surprise. A touch of horror. “Truly? This is not a joust?” Suspicion.

“Jest, and no, it isn’t. I don’t know if we’re going anywhere, but I promised to give him a chance.”

Ziva’s expression slowly settled on a reserved smile. “ _Yasher koach_ , my friend.”

Tony didn’t know the phrase, but the meaning translated well enough. He stood and offered Ziva both his hands. She took them and he pulled her to her feet before kissing her cheek. “You will always be my beautiful partner,” Tony said, carefully omitting the “ninja” from his well-worn name for her.

She smiled at him, but he could feel the regret there. “Partners,” she said. 

Tony wanted to see Tali, but he had to get to work. Vance would want to talk to Tony sooner rather than later, and Tony needed his professional life settled so he could focus on his personal one. “I have to get to the office, but maybe we can have dinner.”

“Tali and I would like that,” Ziva said.

Tony nodded. Ziva still had a lot of work to sort out her own life, but Tony felt like he’d cut her free of a piece of the past that was threatening to pull all of them down. He let go of her hands and left.


	24. Chapter 24

Jethro walked past his desk and winced at the stack of paperwork waiting for him.

“Boss!” McGee leaped to his feet. “I didn’t know you were back.”

Jethro didn’t answer. McGee had been around long enough that he should know what to do without needing supervision. “Where’s Bishop?”

“The director assigned her to Balboa’s team. They have a case with a lot of paperwork to sort. Are you back?”

Jethro didn’t have an answer for that, so he ignored the question and took the stairs up to the director’s office two at a time. He passed Cynthia’s desk without listening to her endless complaining about Vance’s schedule. If Vance was doing anything classified, he’d lock the door. If the door wasn’t locked, then he had time to deal with this mess.

Jethro pushed the door open. “Leon.”

The director looked up from his paperwork. He seemed to have a pile of papers to sign, but he pushed them to one side. “Gibbs. I’ve been expecting you. So, are you ready to tell me what's really going on?”

Jethro hated stupid questions. “You know.”

“I know DiNozzo has managed to land in the middle of trouble and has, once again, come out the other side smelling of roses. JAG is singing his praises, but I also know you two are lying about something.”

Jethro sat in one of the visitor’s chairs. “We didn't mention that it was Tony's father who injured his guide, but other than that, you know the truth.”

“Anthony DiNozzo, Senior?” Leon’s eyebrows went up. Jethro hated that everyone around this place liked that bastard. It had to have been a spell because this agency was full of people who made a living reading the motives of others, and they’d fallen for a con man who’d once abandoned his son in a hotel room—who had disowned a child—who had beaten a son for making his own Halloween costume. Jethro had loved shopping for Halloween outfits for Kelly. Senior hadn’t even bothered. And even after Senior had shown up, he’d played games—favoring Tim and using that to wind up Tony. Magic or not, how the fuck had Jethro ignored all that?

After a long silence, Leon said, “I'll let legal know.”

“I'm sure Agent Boucher will do that. He was present during the confrontation.” And unless Jethro had misread the man, Boucher would take some sort of action against Senior. As long as Boucher kept Tony out of the middle, Jethro didn’t care what he did. 

“Is the Shamanic Council taking action?”

Jethro shrugged. “No idea.”

“And you're letting them cut you out?” Leon sounded shocked.

“Do I look like a shaman?” Jethro didn’t let his emotions show on his face, but if he’d slipped at any point—if his own guide was obvious—now was Leon’s chance to say something. Jethro respected the hell out of his eagle and his desire to keep a certain distance between himself and the mundane world, but Jethro had to know how to play this at work.

Leon didn’t even twitch. “When it comes to DiNozzo, you tend to push in, even if it's not appropriate.”

“Long before we had teams, Tony and I were partners. You remember what it's like with partners, don't you?” Jethro let a touch of challenge creep into his voice. Jethro would not stand for having Tony disappointed.

“Your whole team is going to need legal training. I won't have prosecutions put at risk because you or your people go rogue. There are a lot of laws about when you can and can't use magic.”

It was time to get Leon’s head out of his ass. If Jethro had to deal with the pain of that extraction, then Leon did too. “Tell that to Tony's new team,” Jethro said.

“You want him off your team?” Leon put his pen down and really gave Jethro his full attention.

“Want him off? No.” Jethro desperately didn’t want to lose his partner. It would mean having to train someone new to fit into the team, and Jethro had a lack of investigative talent with his current junior members. However, for a chance to make a relationship work, Jethro would make the sacrifice.

“But you're putting him off your team anyway? You hate shamans more than you like DiNozzo. That shocks me.”

Jethro narrowed his eyes because Leon sounded entirely too amused at that. “I don't hate shamans, and DiNozzo will always be my partner,” Jethro said. The growl in his voice took the smile off Leon’s face. “However, now that he's back to full strength, and that means he's ready for his own team.”

Leon leaned back in his chair. “So I’m supposed to just give him a team?”

“Yep. And make it one in DC.”

“Excuse me?” Leon sounded angry now, so Jethro might have pushed too hard, but he sure as hell had a lot of time to make up for—time when he hadn’t pushed hard enough in Tony’s defense.

Jethro leaned forward and tried to take some of the aggression out of his voice. “You know he’s good Leon.”

“I know he plays games with his team’s heads. I don’t a team leader that treats his people that way.”

Jethro stomped down on a flash of anger. “Then you better fire me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m the one that set up that dynamic.” And Jethro could head slap himself for that stupidity, but he couldn’t change the past. He could only fix this fuck up. “I was pissed that Tony wouldn’t stand up and put his junior team members in their places. I started all this inappropriate competition.”

Leon looked shocked, which suggested he didn’t know what the hell went on in his own agency. “You did? I thought you liked DiNozzo.”

“I thought it would inspire him to step up to the plate. I didn’t know he was walking wounded, and that’s on me, but you don’t blame Tony for surviving the MCRT the only way he could.”

“So all the problems with practical jokes?”

Jethro prepared to take his lumps because looking back, what he was about to admit was about the stupidest choice he had ever made. “I told Ziva and Tim and even Kate that they shouldn’t listen to Tony unless he made them.”

“You what?” Vance sat up and stared at Jethro like Jethro had grown another head. He deserved that. “By the time Ellie joined the team, I realized that wasn’t working.”

“So it took you eight years to decide your leadership style was failing?” Jethro wanted to point out that in four years, Leon never even noticed what was going on in his premier team.

“I have always admitted that I’m a stubborn bastard.”

“I didn’t realize how much of a bastard,” Leon said. He leaned back in his chair again. “And DiNozzo is blameless?”

“No,” Jethro admitted, “but he would have reacted better if he wasn’t so injured.”

“From what his father did to him decades ago?” Leon didn’t even bother hiding his disbelief. Jethro felt a little more guilt about throwing Ziva under the bus, but she’d made her choices and he wouldn’t protect her at the cost of Tony.

“Ziva David fed off his guide, and every time his father visited, he probably took more. Tony was barely functioning.”

“And yet you had him as your second?”

Jethro grinned. “His version of barely functioning is better than most agents at their best.”

“So you keep saying. I’ve never seen the sort of talent you keep attributing to him.”

Jethro was about done with this intentional blindness Vance was nursing when it came to Tony. “Leon, he’s been drained of nearly every bit of magic, and as a shaman, his magic is part of him. If an agent lost several pints of blood and performed as well as he has, you’d be impressed as hell, so stop playing stupid.”

“I’m not playing.”

Jethro stood. “Let me make this perfectly clear. If you don’t give him his own team, I’m going to tell him to take the job with Boucher. Then NCIS can pay to hire him as a consultant whenever one of our cases includes magic. And with more and more people developing Talent, I can see that doing a number on your budget.”

“You’re assuming he’d listen to you.”

“I am,” Jethro said. He didn’t deserve that sort of loyalty, but he knew Tony would always offer it. “He’ll listen, especially since I’ll retire if you screw him over.” Jethro had used that threat from time to time over the years, but for the first time, he realized he was ready to do it. He didn’t need this job. He would rather be here to make sure servicemen and women got justice, but he didn’t need it.

“That’s an empty threat.”

“Nope,” Jethro said. “I figure Boucher will hire me for a few cases, and the rest of the time I can focus on the fact that Ziva David moved into my house with the daughter she had with DiNozzo. Last time there was a little girl in that house, I chose the job. Maybe this time I need to make a different choice.”

“For DiNozzo and David’s daughter?”

“Yep. If I’m lucky, Tali will eventually be my step daughter. I’m getting another chance, and I won’t throw it away.”

“You and David?” That shocked Leon, but Jethro was about to blow his mind. 

“Me and DiNozzo,” Jethro said. Sure enough, Leon’s mouth fell open. “That’s another reason why Tony needs his own team. You never knew Tony back when Morrow was here, but back then, he was the first to get in my face, the first to yell at me. If we’re together at home and at work, I’m going to piss him off, and he’s going to lay into me. That works if we’re partners, but if we’re on the same team, other team members are going to feel like they’re caught in the middle.”

For a long time, Leon just stared at Jethro. Jethro understood the power of silence, so he waited, watching as Leon seemed to struggle with his thoughts. And he did struggle. Leon finally stood.

“I need to talk to DiNozzo about this.”

Jethro walked out. Hopefully Vance got his act together before Tony showed up. Leon had never known Tony when he was at his best. He just might find Tony a more formidable opponent than he expected.

As much as Jethro disliked technology, he wasn’t going to let Tony walk into this blind. So Jethro pulled out his phone and started texting. It was painfully slow, but it was a way Jethro could prove his intentions to change, so he suffered through. Hopefully Tony would recognize it as a peace offering the way Jethro intended. At this point, Jethro needed to put as much effort into winning Tony as he did solving a case.

After all, Jethro was damn good at getting what he wanted once he put his mind to it, and he wanted Tony.


	25. Chapter 25

Leon tapped his pen against DiNozzo’s file as he waited for Morrow’s secretary to get the man on the phone. He hated how much of his time was spent dealing with Gibbs’ team. If Gibbs was telling the truth about playing his agents against each other, that would explain a lot. It also made Leon wonder about how much autonomy Gibbs had to run his own team. 

But if Leon stuck his nose in that mess, he had no illusions about how ugly it might get. And as much as Leon hated to admit it, McGee was not ready to take lead on a team, much less the premier team. The director’s chair required a certain political finesse, and if Leon’s people couldn’t close cases, some of that political support would fade away. People in DC valued efficiency, and most of Leon’s support came from men who wanted the job to get done. He wasn’t like Shepard who had supporters among the social justice factions in DC. Leon had burned those bridges because he demanded respect on his merits, and not because he was black.

After a long wait, Morrow came on the line. “Director Vance. How are you doing?”

“Please, call me Leon. I was hoping you could give me a little background on an agent.” Leon paused to sort his thoughts.

“Leon, it’s been a long time since I sat in that chair,” Morrow said with amusement. “I’m not sure how much I can help you.” The man’s overtly humble attitude annoyed Leon because everyone knew Morrow kept his fingers in most of the law enforcement pies in DC.

“Tony DiNozzo and Jethro Gibbs,” Leon said.

Morrow chuckled. “They’re giving you grief, huh?”

“A bit.”

“They’re a handful. I hear DiNozzo developed Talent. How’s that going?”

Leon bristled at the amused tone, but he was too much a politician to show his aggravation. “I’m still trying to figure that out. When you were the director, how did the two men work together?”

Morrow was silent for a time. Leon hated that he had to show weakness in front of the older man, but it couldn’t be helped. Leon had to know how many of Gibbs’ claims were true, and Leon couldn’t rely on Gibbs’ evaluations. The man was famous for viciously shredding all his subordinates on paper. Eventually Morrow said, “That sounds ominous.”

“Why?”

“Because if you’re asking, that means there’s a problem in that relationship. And trust me, you don’t want Jethro Gibbs charging through the agency if you don’t have DiNozzo around.” Morrow’s voice had lost all humor now, and the hairs on Leon’s arms stood up. Morrow meant it.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Surely you’ve noticed that Tony is the only one who can actually shut Jethro down once he gets the bit in his mouth. I’m not ashamed to admit I couldn’t control Gibbs. And that man does not have the respect for the law that a team lead needed. Before DiNozzo, Scuito’s demand for clean evidence and Burley’s legal background curbed the worst of Gibbs’ excesses. But after Burley transferred, I seriously considered pulling Gibbs off active investigations. The first time DiNozzo got in a screaming match with Gibbs in the middle of the bullpen over seizure laws, I finally got a good night sleep. Burley forced himself to get in Gibbs’ face, but DiNozzo excelled at it.”

Leon’s stomach churned. That pretty much confirmed everything Gibbs had said. “Do you think DiNozzo could handle his own team?”

“Hell yes,” Morrow said, and the amusement was back. “Jenny and I both offered him his own teams. I kept my offers limited to DC so he would still be around to support Gibbs’ team and train them to back that bull down when necessary, but Jenny offered him Rota. I still think that would have been a disaster.”

“Do you really think Gibbs would have gone off the reservation?”

“I think he’s been off the reservation far more than he should be in the last few years. Your internal affairs department might not want to rock the boat, but since you’re asking, I’ll tell you that more than one agency is looking at Gibbs’ indiscretions.” 

Leon’s blood ran cold. If other agencies were moving to investigate NCIS, that could cause more damage than Leon could survive. Parson had done enough damage, and that little pipsqueak had very little support in political circles. Even Morrow had called him a little creep and Parson’s illegitimate relationship to J. Edgar Hoover made him a bit of a joke. But a more respected or seasoned investigator could do lasting damage.

“Is what I hear about DiNozzo being magically damaged correct?”

“Yes. His father was the original aggressor, although according to Gibbs, Ziva David also stole magic from him. Apparently his mystical guide was near death.”

Morrow whistled. “Bad luck, having Gibbs running around without having DiNozzo up to full strength.”

“Gibbs is threatening to retire if I don’t find DiNozzo his own team.”

“Does Gibbs want DiNozzo off his team?” Morrow was clearly shocked.

“Gibbs and DiNozzo have started a relationship. They can’t be on the same team.”

Morrow chuckled. “It took those two knuckleheads long enough. Is DiNozzo up to strength again?”

“I assume so,” Leon said. At the last meeting, DiNozzo had exuded a quiet power that had shocked Leon. Even more surprising, Tony had remained silent through much of the discussion. When he spoke, everyone in the room tended to listen, but he hadn’t used that commanding presence to overwhelm others. That was a different DiNozzo than the one Leon had grown to know. Oh, Leon respected many of DiNozzo’s skills, but that meeting was the first time Leon had a sense of DiNozzo as a powerful and potentially dangerous individual.

“Would he get in Gibbs’ face when Gibbs is at his worst?” 

Leon nodded, even though Morrow couldn’t see it. “I think he would.” And for the first time, Leon had the sense that Gibbs might not win a confrontation. Leon had thought normal people couldn’t have sexual relationships with powerful shamans. Maybe DiNozzo was doing something against shamanic rules, like sharing his guide. Gibbs had looked over at the empty corner of the room once or twice, and that would explain why they could have a relationship. Whatever arrangement they had, Leon didn’t want to know too much about it. 

“Well just make sure you keep DiNozzo in the same home office as Gibbs. Otherwise, you might be better off letting Gibbs retire.” That was about as unambiguous of a warning as Leon had ever heard. His phone vibrated, and Leon looked down to see a text from Cynthia. DiNozzo had arrived.

“I appreciate the advice,” Leon said, and he meant it. He had misjudged this team, and he needed to make sure he didn’t lose any more ground. When Parsons had forced the MCRT to temporarily quit, the agency’s closure rate and conviction rate for the most heinous crimes had taken a huge hit. At the time, most people blamed Parsons. It had helped turn that situation back to NCIS’s favor. However, if Leon lost the MCRT again, this time people would blame him.

“Any time. Have a good day, Leon,” Morrow said before hanging up.

Leon sighed. He’d thought NCIS would be a simple agency, much more so than the FBI with so many different political factions all vying for resources. It turns out he’d been wrong in more ways than one. He reached over and touched the intercom.

“Send him in,” he told Cynthia.

DiNozzo must have been standing at the door because he immediately opened the door and stepped inside. In the past, DiNozzo had always fidgeted, but now he stopped just inside the office, closed the door, and watched Leon with a wariness Leon didn’t normally associate with DiNozzo.

“Agent DiNozzo. Take a seat,” Leon suggested, gesturing to his guest chairs.

“Thanks.” DiNozzo sat and continued to watch Leon. As much as Leon didn’t want to admit it, this new version of the agent was creeping him out a little. This was DiNozzo stripped of all the inappropriate jokes. Sure, Leon had seen hints of this man, but only in passing. In large doses, he was a little unnerving. 

“Your Talent is a challenge for the agency,” Leon said, hoping to strike a balance between keeping control and alienating DiNozzo.

“A challenge?” DiNozzo crossed his legs. “I thought it would be an opportunity.”

“It does open interesting possibilities,” Leon said. He had to admit that he would have been excited if any of his other agents had shown significant Talent. They had a few low-level magic users, but powerful shamans rarely went into law enforcement. The FBI was the only federal agency that had multiple people with Talent on one team, and they had solved some high-profile cases because of it. More than one director was talking about the fact that they had uncovered a conspiracy that would have undermined the US government. They had even earned forgiveness for having some sort of confrontation with fanatic shamans that led to a large chunk of a downtown street blowing up.

“So the question is who wants to start a new Talent unit,” Tony said.

Leon frowned. “Do you want to work Talent cases exclusively?”

“Nope,” Tony said easily. “But if there is any hint of magic, you have no way to investigate. If you had a second MCRT team, one that automatically took lead on Talent cases, you would be getting in front of a growing law enforcement need.”

Leon sucked in a breath. That was far more direct than he’d been expecting. “You want me to form a new MCRT for you?”

“I have the skills to run one.”

“That’s assuming a lot.” Leon did not like being backed into a corner.

Tony leaned forward, resting his palm on Leon’s desk. “Let’s lay our cards on the table. You don’t like me, in part because I have not been living up to my abilities. Neither of us can change the past, but moving forward, I want lead on a major team here in DC. I can get that here or go elsewhere. Personally, I owe NCIS. I’ve been so off my game in the last few years that NCIS would have been within their rights to write me up or fire me. You didn’t. And I know that most of that comes from your desire to avoid a confrontation with Gibbs, but you could have pushed the issue. I appreciate that you didn’t. 

“However, if NCIS won’t give me a team, the FBI is expanding their Talent team, and I can apply there. The local Djedi center is also looking for former law enforcement personnel to run an independent consulting group. I have been offered the lead.”

“And you think that having other offers will force me to match them?” Leon asked. His blood pressure rose at DiNozzo’s audacity in even making his demands.

“Nope. You may tell me to go suck in the wind,” DiNozzo said easily. “If you’re not willing to admit that things have changed, I’d rather know now. I’ve burned bridges, and if I have to go somewhere else, I can do that.”

A week ago, Leon would have assumed this was blackmail, but now he wasn’t as sure. DiNozzo didn’t have the desperation of a man who might resort to those strongarm tactics. But Leon couldn’t know for sure. He felt like this DiNozzo was a stranger. “And if you leave to work for the FBI or the Djedi Center, will you encourage Gibbs to quit?”

DiNozzo visibly started. “What? No. Hell no. What would he do if he retired? Spend all day in the same house with Ziva? That’s a recipe for disaster.” DiNozzo gave an exaggerated shiver of horror, and Leon saw the more familiar version of the man appear like a mirage before it vanished again under a more serious DiNozzo. “I would never encourage Jethro to quit work.”

Leon thought back to Morrow’s warning. If DiNozzo wasn’t around, Leon was going to have to ride herd on Gibbs. If DiNozzo was going to be honest, maybe Leon could try a little of the same. “There are rumors that other agencies are interested in what Gibbs is doing. We held off Parsons, but the last time I talked to the man, he made it very clear that you were the only team member who hadn’t broken the law. I need a way to make sure Gibbs is steering clear of any illegal or unethical lines. I assumed that now that you’re back to full strength that you would provide that balance.”

DiNozzo blew out a long breath. Instead of trying to bluff, he rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, shit.” That was as good as an admission that Gibbs had been up to his old tricks. Shit was right. Leon wondered if he hadn’t already lost his MCRT. “Get Kyle Omagi.”

“Who?” Leon jotted the name down on the edge of an envelope.

“Kyle Omagi. He was CGIS Agent Abigail Borin’s second in command for five years. He has his own team now, but from what I’ve heard, he’s been relegated to fairly minor investigations. He’s good, and he’ll put Gibbs in his place. And if he can’t, he’ll let me know, and I’ll remind that bull-headed Marine that the rest of us didn’t risk our careers so he could put both feet in quicksand again.” There was a fierceness to DiNozzo’s words that made Leon believe Gibbs would be in real trouble if he crossed DiNozzo.

“Will he transfer?” 

“If he believes he has a chance to take over MCRT when Gibbs retires, he’ll transfer.”

Leon sat up straight. “Wait a minute!”

DiNozzo cut him off. “You want Tim to have the position,” he said, nodding. “But if Tim is the head of MCRT, he’s going to damage his own career. He’s getting better about challenging people, but he’s still not comfortable going after people in positions of authority. MCRT goes after so many powerful people that at some point, Tim would hesitate. Omagi would be better.”

“So, you don’t think McGee could handle a team?” Leon demanded. It was just like DiNozzo and Gibbs to discount skills they themselves didn’t possess.

“I think he would be a great team lead,” DiNozzo said, “but not for MCRT. In counterterrorism or cybercrimes, he could have a closure rate to rival the MCRT. His field work makes him a more well-rounded agent than most. However, he will always be uncomfortable accusing a general of pedophilia. When he’s with the rest of us on a team, that’s fine. He can ask me or Gibbs to handle that interview. During the Mitchell case, he asked me to handle the interrogation. However, if he’s the team lead, that fear is going to skew his instincts. He will always be my probie, and I want him to make a play for your job one day, and that means I don’t want to see him set up for failure.”

Leon leaned back. He had never considered McGee that flawed. “And if I asked McGee about this?”

“He’d agree. I’m his trainer, and we’ve talked about his discomfort confronting authorities. And that includes a fear of telling you things you don’t want to hear—like he’s not ready to handle a team like MCRT. But if you ask him, he’ll give you an honest answer.”

“But you could handle a second MCRT,” Leon said drily.

“In a heartbeat,” Tony said. “However, shamanic Talent isn’t the only sort. I would want at least one magic user on my team so we can cover the full range of magic. It’s worthless to have a Talent team that can only recognize magic if it’s shamanic. Luckily, shamans are much rarer than magic users. There are a number of agents who use magic, and if we put out a job description for a magic user on the Major Case Response Team, you may find you have more Talent than you know about,” Tony said with a knowing smile. 

Leon couldn’t decide if DiNozzo was trying to appear harmless or if he knew something about a Talented agent. Legally Leon couldn’t ask agents about their status, but DiNozzo did tend to know more than he should. There might be agents DiNozzo had an eye on.

And that meant if he left to work for the Djedi Center, he might take NCIS agents who had Talent, leaving the agency even more deprived of valuable resources. Leon had to put the good of the agency ahead of his own frustration.

“Creating a second MCRT would pose logistical problems for the budget, especially in the middle of a fiscal year.”

DiNozzo nodded. “Talk to Salma al-Ghamdi over at the FBI. I hear she’s interested in providing grant money to agencies who want to run Talent units in a way compatible with the needs and rights of shamans and magic users.”

Leon frowned. He hadn’t heard of new money coming into DC. “Salma al-Ghamdi?”

“She has an office in the Hoover building. Ask Agent Boucher,” DiNozzo said. “She could provide short-term support and probably cover some training for me and my team. Just because I am a shaman doesn’t mean I can pull off the sort of investigative miracles Agent Boucher can. I don’t have the training. But I learn fast.”

“Three person team?” Leon asked. Suspects had a right to be interviewed by someone without Talent, so they would need one normal person. Leon mentally winced. Mundane. He needed to make sure he didn’t call non-magical people normal. That was the sort of slip that led to charges of discrimination.

“With room for others with Talent to train with us,” DiNozzo said. “The FBI Talent team has a reputation as prickly at best, and they don’t support the wider Talent community at all. It’s hard for law enforcement to get training. I’d like to have room for one or two probies at a time.”

“Are you talking about NCIS or opening the agency to outside personnel?”

DiNozzo slowly smiled. “You know you would benefit if you offered the only probie training for anyone with Talent. None of the local agencies or even police departments are set up to train. The FBI’s Talent team doesn’t take probies and they travel a lot. NCIS could become the DC center for training with other department leads vying to get their people in here. And al-Ghamdi might be talked into providing more funding if you served the wider community.”

The picture DiNozzo painted was seductive. That was the sort of resource that could make someone’s political career. Leon could end up doing favors for major players up and down the east coast. Hell, some international agencies struggled to handle Talent cases or attracted those with Talent to law enforcement. But power was always a double-edged sword.

“And could NCIS survive having that many people watch what we’re doing?” If DiNozzo let strangers get too near Gibbs, a potential problem could turn into a catastrophic one if the wrong person reported back to their bosses.

“Fair question,” DiNozzo said. The man was endlessly surprising today. “Director Vance, no one would ever ask a shaman to identify his guide. And that’s because guides choose us based on whether our psychology matches. For example, Agent Boucher is powerful and cranky, and when pushed, tends to push back harder. I would be willing to bet his guide is something large and powerful like an elephant or a bear or maybe a whale. But knowing his exact guide could help me pin down his psychological responses.”

Leon knew that. Profilers considered the positive identification of a guide the most significant part of any psychological profile. “Your point?”

Tony smiled. “My guide is a wolf. I will probably always joke around too much with my probies because young pups have to learn to let off steam, and sometimes a person can learn as much from playing as they can from the hunt. But it also means I will always defend my pack. Always. I will never let Jethro or NCIS get put in a bad light. It’s not in my nature.” Without being dismissed, DiNozzo stood. “No doubt you have a lot to think about, and I do understand the difficulty of shifting financial resources, so you may want to talk to al-Ghamdi. Director.”

With a nod, DiNozzo left.

Well, damn. That was not the same man. Leon thought back to Gibbs’ analogy of an agent trying to work while missing several pints of blood, and it made more sense now. The DiNozzo Leon had come to know was a pale imitation of this man. It made Leon wonder what fate DiNozzo had planned for his father. Powerful men didn’t tolerate betrayal, so Leon figured that DiNozzo, senior would pay for his crimes one way or another. Part of Leon wished he could be ringside to see that man learn what a mistake he had made in attacking his son.

But for now, Leon had other issues. If this al-Ghamdi did have funding available, DiNozzo was right about one thing—this was an opportunity for NCIS.


	26. Chapter 26

Tony walked out the meeting with Vance feeling good. It had been a long time since Tony had walked out of a work meeting feeling good about what he’d said. Usually he spent the hour after any meeting replaying all the stupid things he’d said—all the ways he’d over-explained some concept or left out a crucial detail. No matter what he did, he never seemed to hit the right note. And now he knew why.

Damn his father.

Most of the time, Tony was a live and let live sort. Hanging onto old grudges just made a person miserable, and when he’d worked as a patrol officer on the street, he’d seen plenty of examples of what happened to people who lived in regret and alcohol. It was never pretty. So until Tony stopped wanting to shove his father into a food processor one pound at a time, Tony would keep his distance.

When the elevator doors opened on the basement level, Tony could feel the base thrumming through the floors. Abby must have the music turned up to deafening levels. She did have a certain lack of respect for her own hearing. Either that or she secret wore earplugs and turned the music up to drive other people away. Some days, Tony wasn’t sure.

Her lab was practically vibrating, and Tony couldn’t hear his own thoughts over the heavy metal. Luckily the stereo was right next to the door, so Tony turned it off. The sudden silence made Abby whirl around. Before Tony could blink, he was hit with a hundred and thirty pounds of squealing Abby.

“Tony! Tony! Tony! Oh my God. You would not believe the rumors that are running around this place.”

Tony cringed. Given that JAG and the FBI had been having meetings about him, Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to know what other people were saying. The fact that he had made so many mistakes just trying to function with a vital part of himself damaged just exacerbated his fears. “Rumors?” he asked with more than a little dread.

Abby backed off and nodded enthusiastically. “Like the one that says Ziva has a daughter.” Abby tilted her head to the side, clearly interested in any intel Tony might have.

“That one’s true,” Tony said. A light came on in Abby’s eyes, and Tony could practically read the thought bubble above her head. Abby wasn’t exactly subtle, but he didn’t want to play a hundred questions, so he cut her off. “And before you ask me, yes, it’s true that Tali is mine.”

Abby squealed. “I knew you two were in love. I knew it. I saw the way you looked at her!” She punctuated her words by punching him in the arm.

Tony’s sighed. Abby was a woman in her forties who worked murder cases, and she still insisted on believing in fairy tales. At least she wanted to believe in them. “Abbs, Ziva and I were two screwed up idiots playing push-pull. We had fleeting moments of wanting to love each other between long bouts of guilt and resentment.”

Abby’s face fell. “You aren’t in love?”

“No,” Tony said firmly. He had been infatuated with Ziva and he had enjoyed the chase when their mutual issues hadn’t gotten in the way, but he couldn’t describe what they had as love. Love was wanting to curl up on the couch with the other person and watch television. Love was enjoying the silence and trusting the other person. Love was wanting to make the other person happy, not handling them like unexploded ordinance. Sadly, Tony sometimes forgot that last part. Even Jethro had an explosive element, and Tony hoped they could navigate their relationship without that becoming a problem, but he definitely wasn’t in love with Ziva.

Abby frowned. “Wait. But you knew about Ziva’s daughter, right? I mean, she didn’t hide your daughter from you, did she?” Her voice grew steadily louder.

Tony sighed.

“She didn’t tell you?” Abby shrieked. Without giving Tony a chance to answer, Abby whirled around and started pacing. “When I see her, I’m going to give her a piece of my mind! I’m going to tell her that what she did was terrible. Horrible. She had no right to run away and hide her daughter who is also your daughter. You have just as much right to—”

Tony grabbed her by the arm. “Abby!”

“What?” She grimaced. “Too much?”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed with a sigh.

Abby wrinkled her nose and the frantic energy faded. “Sorry. I just want you to know that I’m in your corner. I’m so mad at her.” Abby rested her hand on Tony’s arm.

“I appreciate the support, but you don’t have to be so loudly supportive,” Tony said. “Besides, you wouldn’t actually be all that mad if Ziva were here.”

Abby crossed her arms and gave Tony a shit look. “I might rant less, but I would tell her that she was totally wrong. You’re Tony, and sometimes you forget how awesome you are, but you are awesome, and she had no right hiding something this big. So don’t you dare suggest that she’s justified because she only hurt you.”

Tony smiled at Abby’s display of loyalty. She’d grown used to having to protect him. “That brings up the next items we need to discuss.”

“We have an agenda?” Abby asked suspiciously.

They did. Tony needed her to understand what had changed over the last week, and sometimes she wasn’t good with change, so he needed to cover the surprises one at a time. “Let’s sit,” Tony said as he headed for the futon.

Abby followed with a suspicious look on her face.

“I assume you heard I have Talent?”

Abby bounced a little before dropping down onto the couch. “Hinky, but totally cool. And I know you’re not some religious bigot, so don’t pretend you don’t think it’s cool.”

Tony smiled at his wolf appeared in the corner and settled down next to the door as though guarding it. “It’s cool,” he agreed. “But it turns out that some of my problems are related to my Talent.” 

Now that Tony had more time to think about it, he wondered how deep the problems with his father truly were. Senior had showed back up in his life in 2010, and later that year Ziva and Tim had turned the audio off during the Military At Home case. He had to wonder if Senior had cause Ziva and Tim to develop more frustration as part of some effort to keep Tony from finding allies against him. Maybe it was as simple as Tony growing weaker because his father was stealing his magic, and the others had grown more annoyed because Tony had struggled to find that line between joking and unprofessional.

Abby’s voice grew soft. “Hey, you know I’ll love you no matter what you say.”

“I know.” Tony took her hand. “It turns out that my spirit guide was horribly hurt—dying because he wouldn’t abandon me. I was weak because he was weak. But I’m not the same injured Tony DiNozzo from a week ago. I’m not going to excuse Ziva’s behavior or put up with abuse.”

“Who attacked you?” Abby’s voice had a quiet horror that made Tony worry about his father’s online records. Abby was one hell of a hacker when she lost her temper—more dangerous than Tim.

“My father.”

“What?” The incredulity in Abby’s voice cut deep. “Your father wouldn’t do something like that.”

Tony counted to five silently. “Abby, how well do you know my father?”

“I know him plenty. He’s your father,” Abby said in a confused tone.

“How many times have you actually met him?” Tony pressed.

“Four or five,” Abby said slowly.

“Three,” Tony corrected her. She frowned, but she didn’t contradict him. “Think like a scientist, Abby. Have you collected enough data to form an opinion about him?”

“He’s your father. I base my feelings on the fact I love you,” Abby said with supreme confidence.

“And what have I told you about my father?”

“That’s he’s a businessman…” Abby’s voice trailed off. Tony had never told her that Senior was a businessman. He’d told her that Senior was a con man who wanted to always present himself as a brilliant businessman. Now Tony knew his father had used Talent to make the others like him. Before it had only been suspicion. Abby looked at Tony with alarm. “I know he’s a good guy—he’s a roguish charmer. He’s like Ducky only less English.”

That was an insult to Ducky.

“What did I tell you about my childhood?” Tony hadn’t confided in many people, but he’d trusted Abby and Kate. Abby’s frown grew deeper.

Movement caught Tony’s eye, and he turned to see Jethro’s golden eagle settling in on top of Abby’s computer screen. Tony had a wave of disapproval, and then the world shifted. Tony could see colors overlaying most of the room, but Abby was a dull brown. The color started flaking off her like the gilding coming off a statue. Tony’s wolf stood, and suddenly Tony could see the magic sliding in under Senior’s spell, pushing it away from the basic core of Abby.

“Oh my God,” Abby said softly. “You told me how he abandoned you in Hawaii and Child Welfare System got involved, and then he beat you so hard you missed school after that one Halloween. And I promised you I wouldn’t look him up and ruin his life. You said the best revenge was being happy away from him, and I told you that if he ever showed up here, I wouldn’t hold back. I would tell him that he was scum like Stachybotrys. Worse than Stachybotrys which is usually not as bad as most people think and your father caused way more damage. How could I remember all that and not want to claw his eyes out?” Tears rolled down Abby’s cheeks. “He did something! What did he do?”

“He’s a shaman,” Tony said. “The only magic he has ever developed was the ability to manipulate others.”

“But… I don’t… Everything is different now. How can everything change in a few seconds?”

Tony looked at the eagle, but it was gone. “A very old and powerful shaman showed me how to take my father’s spell off.”

Twin red spots appeared on Abby’s cheeks and she leapt to her feet. “I’m going to make that man so very, very sorry.”

“Hey!” Tony caught her hand and pulled her back down. “It’s not that easy. My father did some of the damage to me, but Ziva let her guide feed from me, too. I can’t get too aggressive about going after my father without Ziva getting caught up in the same drama.”

“And I’m okay with that!”

Tony tightened his hold. “I’m not. She’s the mother of my daughter, so maybe we could avoid implicating her in a spiritual assault.”

“But—”

“No,” Tony said forcefully. “I am not saying this because I feel insecure. That was the old, damaged Tony DiNozzo. The new, fully-functional shaman Tony DiNozzo is telling you that I am not pursuing my father because I will not create problems in my home, and my father would drag Ziva into this. When he visited, he was too damn interested in her, and I’m almost certain he knew Ziva was feeding on the damage he’d created on my guide.”

Abby sagged back. “I know this makes you an amazing person because you’re putting your daughter ahead of your revenge, but I am still resentful and angry as hell.”

“If you ruin his credit, do it quietly and don’t get caught,” Tony told her. After all, he couldn’t tell her she couldn’t take revenge for her own reasons. Senior had used magic against her, which was a shitty thing to do.

Abby got a devious look on her face. “Oh, I can do that,” she promised.

“But first,” Tony said, “there have been a lot more changes over the past week, and I don’t want you to find out about them through the grapevine. So, let’s talk about the team and Jethro and all the ways that life is changing.”

“Jethro?” Abby’s eyebrows went up and she slowly started to smile. 

Tony smiled back. “This time it’s exactly what you think. Come to lunch and let me fill you in on most of the juicy details.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dead my old fine hopes  
> And dry my dreaming but still...  
> Iris, blue each spring ― Bashō Matsuo


End file.
